


Love, Phoenix

by Rebequa165



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depressed Harry, Draco/Harry - Freeform, Drarry, EWE, Feelings, Forced coming out, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Light Angst, M/M, Secret Admirer, Slash, anonymous confessions, hpdm - Freeform, ultimatum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17193722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebequa165/pseuds/Rebequa165
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts for his eighth year, but he isn’t quite the same. The end of the war has left him with demons… and also secrets. He begins writing anonymous letters to a certain someone, making confessions, sharing his darkest secrets… But what happens when that special someone demands that Harry come clean and disclose his identity? Inspired by the movie Love, Simon (2018).





	1. The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I do not have a beta. Also, this is a lot darker than I originally imagined. Bare with me though, it won't stay that way. It's not a dark fic or anything!
> 
> This was inspired by the movie Love, Simon, but I changed quite a bit. So if you've seen the movie, you don't have to worry about spoilers. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

The atmosphere in the halls, in the Great Hall at meals, in classes… was much darker… much quieter… more subdued. The students kept their heads down, the once cheery chatter now resembled the low murmurings of those in mourning. Because they were. Mourning, that is. The Hogwarts population was almost a hundred lighter than each previous year. Many lives were lost at the Battle of Hogwarts, and many more either took their children and fled, or kept them home for the year to grieve and to be with family. Regardless of the many reasons why, the long tables in the Great Hall had many vacant seats, the dormitories of the upper years were half empty, and the halls were almost barren. Those who did return did not wander or go on leisurely strolls as they once did. No. They quickly and quietly made their way to and from their classes and back to the sanctuary of their dorms. No one lingered out on the grounds or in the halls for long, for no one cared to face the final resting places of their friends, their family members, their teachers. Hogwarts had been rebuilt and returned to its magnificent state, but the same could not be said for its occupants’ spirits.

Which was why McGonagall, the new Headmistress, had implemented several ideas to help her students cope with the war immediately following that first week back. There were mandatory meetings with Healers for all who either fought in the war or lost a loved one in the war, there were additional extracurricular activities (art classes, dueling clubs, flying lessons, dance classes) to help students relieve stress and channel their frustrations into something more appropriate, there was an educational tour to show younger students where aspects of the war took place and just how the war was won, a memorial was erected in the Entrance Hall for those who had bravely given their lives, and there was The Wall.

The Wall was just a bulletin board that was hung up in the Great Hall meant for students to post- well, anything. They could write about their experiences during the war, they could get out their frustrations or anger by venting, they could make an anonymous confession- anything that might help them release their demons. Other students could then respond or add to a post, or create a new one. There were no rules or limits on what could be posted, with the exception of slandering other, current students. It was meant to benefit the student body. And, it was very well-received.

About two months went by and Healer meetings were no longer mandatory. Most of the extracurriculars dissipated (with the exception of the dueling club and one art class), the tour was discontinued. But The Wall remained.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry was among the few who still went to the Healer every other week. He almost didn’t return to Hogwarts. The horrible memories, the things he saw, the things he _did_ … he never wanted to set foot in his first real home ever again. It was like walking back into a waking nightmare. But Hermione had made a solid argument that he couldn’t- well, argue with. They had been given another chance at a future. The war prevented them from attending their final and most crucial year at Hogwarts, but, as awful as it is, the many vacancies this year allowed McGonagall to offer Harry’s year admission to complete their education as “eighth year” students.

And so, there Harry was, taking his very long route (one he mapped out that did _not_ trigger terrible memories) to his biweekly Healer meeting. He had no desire to go, but he knew he wasn’t coping well. Why was he even concerned with his future? He should be dead.

That was a recurring topic all on its own. He was tired of discussing it. It was a fact that he should be dead after all. He _did_ die in the Forbidden Forest. But of course, he couldn’t tell his Healer that. He was sworn to secrecy when it came to the horcruxes, and his own death was a part of that. He could not reveal it to anyone. Therefore, he just kept citing the prophecy as the reason for why he shouldn’t have survived, but she kept coming up with arguments against that logic. It was frustrating and not at all helpful. He did not continue seeing her to talk about his “survivor’s guilt.” There were other topics of discussion that they might actually be able to make progress on… if only he could summon the courage to bring them up.

He couldn’t do it. Instead they talked about how everyone died because of him. Again. He wished he could make it through one session without completely losing his composure and coming across like a pathetic, self-pitying sod. Some hero he was.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry stopped at the loo on the way to dinner to wash away the evidence of his earlier breakdown. He took a good look in the mirror- something he hadn’t done in weeks- and gaped at his reflection. His skin was pale, he had dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks were nearly sunken in, his eyes were dull… he looked gaunt. Hollow. The physical manifestation of misery and grief.

He ripped his gaze from his barely recognizable reflection and made his way to the Great Hall. He pushed the heavy doors open and noticed the crowd of students gathered around The Wall on his way to the Gryffindor table. He had thought about posting something up there, but each time this thought crossed his mind he decided against it. Everyone thought of him as a hero, a _savior_. No one wanted to hear him complain. He was interested though. Maybe he’d check out the new posts after he forced down a little dinner.

“How was your session?” Hermione asked as Harry sat across from her and Ron.

Harry shrugged, trying to find the words. “It was… typical. I avoided certain topics by bringing up more painful ones. I’m not sure it’s helping much anymore.”

“Please don’t give up on them just yet. I really think you could benefit if you’d just- just open up more. And not about the usual things. Your future, for instance-what you’d like to do once we graduate. Your thoughts on love and romance, and any potential prospects…”

Harry’s stomach was doing- unpleasant things. “I don’t have any potential prospects, Hermione, I-”

“What are you talking about, mate? Of course you do! Girls would line up for a chance to date you, even with you being all moody and such! Blimey, are you really that oblivious?”

“Ronald!”

Harry sat quietly and let his two best friends bicker. He didn’t feel like elaborating on his stance that he had no potential prospects… If the only people that were indeed interested in him were girls who hero-worshiped him, then he really didn’t have any actual prospects. That was one of the biggest things eating away at him- the fact that everyone treated him like some deity or something. He wasn’t. He was just- Harry. He wanted someone who would treat him as such. He wanted… well. He didn’t want to go there. He could barely admit it to himself in his own head. He wasn’t nearly ready to tell his friends. Which was why he remained silent throughout their bickering.

“…right, Harry?” Ron finished as he nudged the brunette’s arm.

Harry snapped back to the present with a start. “What?”

“You always have my sister. Ginny? Remember her? She still wants you back. How long are you going to keep her waiting?”

“I…” Harry faltered. He had forgotten about that. Well, he didn’t exactly _forget_ , he just didn’t consider it an option now that he had discovered… He needed a good excuse. “I don’t think I’m ready to pursue a relationship or anything just yet. I’m still messed up over the war-”

“Which is precisely why you need this. It’ll take your mind off of everything. I know she’s my sister, and that’s disgusting, but you’re both of age now so I can’t threaten you anymore. So, if you _really_ want a nice distraction from everything, I can tell you about a few that I know from experience will- Ow!”

“You will _not_ , Ronald Weasely!” Hermione yelled as she smacked him in the arm.

Harry snickered. He took advantage of their distraction and made his way over to The Wall. He just had to see what had the Hall gossiping and chatting like they used to before he made his escape. He joined a few younger students and scanned the posts, noting the new additions. One was of someone’s nightmare, describing all of the horrible details and terrified reaction it provoked from its author. Harry barely batted an eye at it. Another post was a fifth year declaring his feelings for a fellow classmate. How cute. He glanced over at the author of that post and saw that his declaration had been rewarded. His crush was currently wrapped around him, snogging him senseless. Harry smiled to himself and looked back at The Wall.

Then he saw it; the post that everyone was undoubtedly gossiping about. Someone wrote an anonymous confession… they confessed to… being… _gay_.

Harry’s stomach churned unpleasantly. It felt like it had dropped out and was doing cartwheels up and down the aisle. _Merlin’s pants. Someone is gay…_ He reread the post multiple times to make sure he had read it correctly. He had. _Someone is really gay. Someone here, at Hogwarts_.

“Shocker, innit? Wonder who it is,” the younger student said.

Harry glanced at him before turning away from The Wall. “What does it matter who it is? It’s their business.” He had to leave, he had to process this.

He quickly left the Great Hall and took his long route up to Gryffindor tower.

_So… He wasn’t alone._


	2. The Response

It took Harry two full days to work up the nerve. But if he didn’t do this now, he’d never get another opportunity. Which was what led him to the back of the library to a table with a lone occupant who was surrounded by books.

He sat down next to the girl, suddenly very nervous.

“I’m not writing your essay for you. Tell Ron I won’t write his, either.”

Harry smiled. How she knew it was him without even glancing up was one of her many super human abilities. “Hi, Hermione. That’s not why I’m here, actually, but I’ll tell him.”

She looked up at that. “Here to study, then? You haven’t got your books.”

“No, er, I’m not here to study, either. I was sort of hoping you could help me with something.” His insides gave an uncomfortable lurch.

Hermione put down her quill. “Of course. What is it?”

The brunette sighed. _Here it goes._ “Well… I was wondering… how to write something on a piece of parchment without anyone knowing who wrote it? There are- I dunno, tracing spells, and handwriting identification spells and that sort of thing, yeah? How do you get around them?”

Hermione paused a moment, studying him. He squirmed. “You want to post something on The Wall anonymously.” It wasn’t a question.

“I- yeah.” There was no use lying. She would see right through it.

“Well, yes, there are identification spells, revealing spells, wand signature identification… but they’re simple enough to get around. You’ll be able to remain anonymous.” She then wrote down all the spells he would need to cast on the parchment and explained how to cast them.

Forty minutes later found Harry alone in his dorm room, writing out a post and feeling both relieved and incredibly nervous all at once.

The final response read:

_You are not alone. It was very brave admitting to such a thing. That is something I have not been able to do myself until now. You have inspired me. I, too, am gay. Maybe one day we’ll both be able to admit it freely, without the safety of anonymity. In the meantime, I hope that this confession has been a weight off of your shoulders. I hope it will be for me as well. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that we’re one in the same. We’re in this together._

*             *             *             *             *

It was nearing 2:00AM. Everyone was either asleep or else tucked away in their dormitories due to curfew. It was now or never.

Harry slipped out of bed and donned his invisibility cloak, his soon-to-be post clutched tightly in his shaky hand. He quickly and silently navigated through the chilly halls, pausing momentarily before pushing open the doors to the Great Hall as quietly as he could manage.

Once inside, he crept across the length of the room until he reached his destination: The Wall. He held his breath as he glanced around once more, before extracting the hand holding onto the parchment from the cloak. It was trembling. He didn’t waste any time though, this was it. He scanned the posts until he found the confession, and pinned his response directly underneath it. He quickly withdrew his hand and pulled the cloak back over it, once again concealing him. He finally let his breath out. It was done. He turned on his heel and crept back up to his dorm, never once looking back.

*             *             *             *             *

The next morning when Harry walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, he almost did a U-turn and left again. He was an _idiot_. There, standing directly in front of The Wall, in front of _his_ post, was Hermione. She was going to figure out that he posted it, if she hadn’t already. _Bloody Hell, this isn’t good._

He took the seat next to Ron hoping that she’d sit on Ron’s other side. She started to walk over, so he quickly engaged Ron in a conversation about Quidditch. That would keep him occupied for a while.

Hermione chose the seat directly across from Harry. _Bloody fucking Hell._ Harry continued his discussion with Ron and stuffed his mouth full of food whenever there was a pause in the conversation. He was determined. He would not answer any questions right now. Nope. He wouldn’t. He crammed the last of his toast into his mouth and stood from his seat.

“I goh-ah hit da loo,” he managed around his mouthful and fled. Hermione had been silent throughout breakfast, but he knew she was plotting. He knew she was.

*             *             *             *             *

Classes ended much too quickly that afternoon. Harry was still avoiding Hermione like the plague, but he couldn’t very well hide in their shared dormitory. He tried anyway. He took his book bag up to his dorm room and sprawled out on his bed, several books and parchment open in front of him. If she did come in to confront him, maybe she’d change her mind once she saw he was doing homework.

No such luck.

“Harry? You’ve been avoiding me all day,” Hermione huffed as she shoved his books aside and sat down facing him.

“Er… no I haven’t, we were in classes all day,” he tried.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and pinned him with a challenging stare.

“Would you believe that I just have a lot on my mind?”

She sighed and softened her gaze. “Yes, I do believe that. But you’ve still been avoiding me. Does it have anything to do with what you posted?”

Harry quickly averted his gaze. His quilt had such an intricate pattern. Really, it was fascinating how one could create such a pattern with just thread and-

“Harry.”

The brunette winced and glanced up at his friend before quickly looking away again. “Listen, I really don’t want to talk about it. Please, just- leave it.” He held his breath.

Pause.

There was a light squeeze to his forearm. He looked up tentatively and saw a warm smile in return.

“I won’t force you to face anything you aren’t ready to. Just know that I’m here for you, and I love you. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Harry realized that he had been trembling slightly and that his lungs were dangerously close to collapsing. He took in a sharp breath and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. He had no words, but this would do.

She squeezed back and her smile grew. She pulled her hand back gently and rose from the bed. “I would continue to check The Wall and seem interested. I know you probably want to avoid it, but you should keep up appearances. It’ll be less conspicuous that way.”

“Right. Er… thanks. And um… you won’t, you know, tell anyone, will you?” He held his breath again.

“Of course not. Does anyone else know?”

Harry just shook his head ‘no.’

“Well, your secret is safe with me, then.” And with that, she was off.

Harry collapsed on his back and released the breath he’d been holding.

*             *             *             *             *

Dinner was brutal. By then, the whole school had seen his response and was gossiping about the whole situation. There were _two_ gay students at Hogwarts. Oh, what a _scandal_. Everyone was speculating as to who these two mystery fairies could be, and whether or not they were having some sort of explicit gay affair.

 _Honestly_. Harry was doing his very best not to squirm or seem uncomfortable. Hermione actually helped a bit by engaging him in a discussion about- some homework or something. Harry didn’t really know, all he knew was that she was keeping him distracted.

Until Ron piped up, that is.

“I reckon it’s a Hufflepuff. At least one of them.”

“How can you possibly guess which house they belong to?” Hermione was skeptical.

“Who else would confess something like that? Certainly not a Gryffindor. Even if a Gryffindor _was_ a fruit, they’d hardly announce it to the school. Only Hufflepuffs are that dim-witted.”

Harry wanted to leave. He was ready to storm out of there. The only thing keeping him in place was a stern look from Hermione.

“Well I think it was incredibly courageous to announce that. Not everyone has the nerve to do something like that. I bet it _was_ a Gryffindor. You should be more accepting.”

Harry internally groaned. Hermione meant well, but _bloody hell._ She needed to stop insinuating that it was a Gryffindor for Merlin’s sake! That was the last thing he needed!

“Well, if you ask me, the two shirt-lifters are an item, and this is their way of testing the waters before they come out,” Dean said.

Ron nodded enthusiastically as he chewed his giant mouthful of mashed potato.

Neville leaned over then and added, “Rumor has it that the bloke who posted the first confession is a Slytherin. He used a concealment charm while posting it, but the charm didn’t reach all the way down his robes and someone saw the green.”

“Well that makes sense. Slytherins are cowards, aren’t they. They’d announce this type of thing anonymously first to test the waters, just like I said,” Dean replied.

“What do you think, Harry?” asked Ron.

Harry wanted to disappear. Why was dinner only half over? He glanced around the table, and saw that all eyes were on him, waiting for an answer. _Argh._ “I think it’s no one’s business but the blokes who posted it. Clearly they want to remain anonymous.”

Ron rolled his eyes and Dean scoffed, but it was Neville who wouldn’t take the hint. “But Harry, don’t you want to know who it is? There are two blokes who… like other _blokes_. What if they _are_ Gryffindors and- and check us out in the shower or something? I think we have a right to know.”

Harry was uncomfortable.

Dean nodded and added his thoughts. “Neville has a point. They could be on a Quidditch team and check out other teams in the locker room after games. I think it _is_ our business. I don’t care if someone is gay, I’m no homophobe or anything, but I at least want to know who it is so I can steer clear.”

Harry was _very_ uncomfortable. Hermione kicked his shin under the table. “I suppose. I hadn’t thought of that,” he added weakly. It didn’t matter, it was enough. His friends continued their speculations while he nodded occasionally. Internally he was losing his mind.

*             *             *             *             *

The next morning at breakfast, Harry decided to check The Wall out of morbid curiosity. There was a reply to his response. Someone, presumably the author of the original confession, wrote “Thank you” underneath Harry’s own confession. And suddenly, it was worth it.


	3. The Letters

The gossip settled down about a week after Harry’s response. Aside from the “Thank you,” no one had added any posts related to the _scandalous_ coming out of a mystery classmate. Harry was relieved, but still quite proud of himself for replying to it. It _was_ as if some weight had lifted off of his shoulders.

And so, he walked his route to his Healer meeting in slightly higher spirits than normal.

Once seated in the squashy chair opposite the Healer, Harry began to feel nervous. Could he really trust her? Well. None of the content of his past meetings had been splashed across the pages of the _Prophet_ , so he supposed that was something. Maybe it was time… to address what’s been eating at him the most. No more repeated discussions of topics that will undoubtedly make him break down again. Those didn’t help, they just made him feel like human rubbish. No. It was time.

His hands started to shake.

“Harry. What’s got you shaking like a leaf? I can feel the tension coming off you.”

_Breathe._

“There’s… something new I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh?” She looked genuinely interested.

“It’s something that’s, er, very difficult for me to- to talk about, but it’s really important. I recently told one of my best friends- well she figured it out, more like- but it was sort of… a relief. I think I need to talk it out with- with someone trustworthy…”

The Healer leaned forward slightly and gave an understanding nod. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here to help.”

He swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. He couldn’t do it if he had to look at her.

“I…” he cleared his throat. This was _really_ hard. Maybe if he started small. Yeah. “I hate that everyone thinks of me as some hero. I don’t feel that way at all. There are very few people who treat me like just an ordinary person.” He looked up at the Healer for a reaction.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

He looked down again. “Well… my friends have asked me before… if I was interested in anyone. You know, romantically. And that girls would line up for the chance to date me. I could have anyone I wanted.” He glanced up again.

“But that’s not what you want. The girls that would line up are the same who view you as a hero. You want them to want you for _you_.”

“Exactly. And, um… well, there’s more to it than that…” This is where it got difficult. He looked away again.

“Do go on,” she gently urged.

Harry raked his hand through his hair and then clasped his other hand in his lap. His hands were getting sweaty, he was fidgeting, and he felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. He tried to take a deep breath.

The Healer just waited patiently. She didn’t offer him any way out, damn her.

He sighed and resigned himself to the mortification that was sure to come. “I- I’m different,” he started. He took several more deep breaths.

“How so?” she pressed.

“Do you read posts on The Wall?”

“Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t.”

 _Bloody fucking hell_ , he was going to have to say it. He was hoping he could just admit to being the author of the response. _Fuck_. He fidgeted some more. His whole body seemed to be trembling now, not just his hands.

“You know what, never mind. I’m fine, let’s talk about-”

“Oh no, Harry. We’re finally getting somewhere. Addressing the most difficult of topics is where you’ll find the most relief. Now, how are you different?”

Harry covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Aren’t we out of time?”

“We still have 45 minutes.”

“Aarrgghhhh. Fine, just- just give me a minute.” He leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees and face buried in his hands.

“Certainly,” she answered.

Harry stayed like that for- it must have been several minutes. He was trying to focus on his breathing. Why was this so hard? Oh, right. Because he had no desire to come out, he just wanted to- to- what did he want again? Was he torturing himself? No, there was a reason for wanting to talk about this. What was it?

“Tissue?”

Harry looked at the proffered tissue held in front of his face, and he sort of- snapped out of it. He shook his head ‘no’ before slowly sitting up and lowering his hands. He wasn’t crying for once. No. This topic didn’t destroy him and send him into a fit of misery and defeat… This topic was about who he was. He was bringing this up so that he could, hopefully, come to terms with it and prepare himself for what it will mean once he _does_ come out. Discussing it was meant to help build him up and become the person he should be. He did not need a tissue. He could do this.

He took one more deep breath, and then let the words tumble out. “I’m gay.” He fidgeted slightly, but otherwise held his nerves at bay.

“Oh, I see. So you don’t want _any_ of those silly fan girls. Is there a special boy in mind, then?”

And that was it. Harry _laughed_. The tension was broken, and he was glad for his quirky Healer. He beamed at her before answering truthfully. “Yes, there is, but that’s not why I brought this up. That’s something I can face further down the line.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Well, I’m glad you came out to me. I’m sure that’s a heavy burden you’ve been carrying with you.”

“Yes.” He was so relieved. Why was that so hard? She was completely accepting, and acted like she wasn’t even surprised… Wait. “Are, um. Are you surprised? You don’t seem surprised.”

She smiled warmly. “No, I wasn’t that surprised.”

“Oh. Well…” he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. “Did you know, then?”

She shook her head ‘no,’ and replied “I just wasn’t surprised.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t obvious then.

They discussed the implications of his orientation at length, and she did actually help him prepare for what might come when he _is_ ready to face it. She helped him identify that the main reason he was so apprehensive was because he didn’t want anything to change. He was a normal teenager- well, aside from the whole ‘hero’ thing- and he was in his last year at Hogwarts. He wasn’t ready for his life to be turned upside just yet, or for the media attention he would be subjected to.

All-in-all, it was a very good, and very productive session. Harry got up to leave, but the Healer wasn’t quite finished with him.

 “Hold on, Harry, one more thing. I have some homework for you.”

Intrigued, he sat back down.

“I want you to write letters to this special boy of yours.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He was _not_ ready for that, there was no way in _Hell_ -

“Relax,” she chuckled. “I want you to write them, but you don’t have to send them to the boy if you don’t want to.”

_Oh._

“This is an exercise that will help you become more comfortable with the idea of being gay, and of having feelings for another boy. It was painful watching you admit it to me… This will help. I want you to write letters to him, but they can contain anything you’d like. You can confess your feelings and come out to him, you can tell him everything you like about him, practice flirting, or simply tell him about your day. Tell him about yourself, your likes and dislikes… Anything. You can send the letters to him as a friend, anonymously, or not at all. What I’m looking for is for you to identify your own feelings, work through them and address them, and become more at ease with them. Next session we’ll discuss how writing the letters makes you feel.”

Harry processed all of that for a moment before slowly nodding his head in agreement. “Alright… I can do that.” That wasn’t so bad. Maybe it would help.

*             *             *             *             *

There were two weeks until Harry’s next Healer session, so he had plenty of time to think about these letters he had yet to write. But actual homework took precedence, right? Of course it did. He had time.

*             *             *             *             *

He didn’t have time. His next Healer session was in two _days_ , and Harry was starting to panic. He had put off even thinking about it, and now he wasn’t sure what to do. Did he want to actually send one of the letters anonymously? It might help him get over this crush he had; any response he got back was sure to be scathing. Or, should he just write a bunch of nonsensical, touchy-feely rubbish? No. He had to take this assignment seriously. He really did want to feel better about the whole thing.

He was sitting at dinner quietly contemplating this when said crush walked by. Harry watched as the gorgeous creature walked- no, glided- by, making his way over to The Wall. He tilted his head back slightly to read the posts that were higher up, which resulted in his perfect, soft-looking blonde hair to fall back away from his eyes. His piercing, stormy-gray eyes. Harry’s mouth went dry. Apparently finding nothing of interest, the blonde God continued to glide out of the Great Hall. Harry turned back to his plate, but he wasn’t hungry. His stomach was full of jitters. He sighed and glanced up- only to find Hermione staring back at him.

 _Great_. Did she notice his pathetic gawking? If she did, she wasn’t letting on.

Harry stood and, nodding to his friends, made his way out of the Hall and up to his dorm room. Having just seen his crush, he supposed now was as good a time as any to write those damn letters.

*             *             *             *             *

One letter was downright hilarious. Harry chuckled to himself as he reread it:

 

_To the hottest guy at school,_

_You’re bloody gorgeous and I have been pining over you for soooooo long. I’m Harry Potter. And I like blokes. More specifically, I like YOU. If you were mine, I’d spoil you rotten._

 

He had to stop. That was- it was- he had no idea what that was. He cast _incendio_ and took out a fresh piece of parchment.

The next letter was a lot more serious. It contained a heart-felt confession about his orientation as well as his crush on the would-be-recipient. It was emotional and forthcoming, and not at all Harry. He set fire to that one, too.

Despite these failed attempts, he was feeling better about the whole thing. It was getting easier to write the words “I’m gay,” and he was actually opening up about it. He didn’t think he had ever really done that before. It was… liberating.

Alright. One more. For real, this time. Harry thought.

“Dear… hmm. Malfoy? No… Dear Draco? Maybe…” Should he come up with some clever nickname, like Prince of Snakes? Harry chuckled. _No_.

 

_Dear Draco,_

_The Wall has inspired me to take a step further. I’m writing to you because… I have feelings for you. Please do not ask my identity, for I do not wish to disclose it. However, I do want to reach out to you and make this confession because I’ve been doing a lot of self-reflection lately, and I think I just needed to get this off my chest. You and I aren’t friends. We don’t exactly know each other that well, either. I developed this crush because of things you’ve done, or things I’ve seen that are common knowledge. I’d love the chance to get to know you better though. You’re complex, and I know you don’t open up to many people, if anyone. Have some faith in a stranger. A stranger who likes you, might I add. It can be… liberating. I know it is for me. I hope I hear back from you, but if not, no hard feelings._

 

Hmm. From? Nah. Yours truly? No no no. Just a ‘dash’ then. But what name should he use? ‘Secret admirer’ sounded too cliché. He thought for a moment. Then he wrote:

_-Phoenix_

That night, at nearly 2:00AM, he went up to the owlery to send his letter. He watched as the owl took off into the night. No turning back now.


	4. Correspondence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, about 3x the usual length. Enjoy!

“So, I’d like to begin with you telling me what you confessed last time.”

Harry was a bit taken aback by that, but he looked his Healer straight in the eyes as he responded, “I’m gay.”

She beamed. “That was much more confident than last time. How does it feel saying it now?”

“Loads better.” He smiled back at her.

“And did you write any letters to your special boy?”

Harry blushed and cleared his throat. “Can- can we not call him that?”

She chuckled. “What shall we call him then?”

“I dunno, er, my… um,” he felt his face heating up more as he struggled to find the least incriminating word for what Draco was.

“You could tell me his name,” she suggested with a slight smirk.

She was smirking at him. Harry scowled.

“No, I don’t think so. Fine, let’s just call him… my crush. I guess.” He looked away awkwardly.

The Healer just smiled warmly and replied, “Alright then. Have you written any letters to your crush?”

Harry once again felt his face heating up, but met her questioning gaze anyway. “I did. Yes. A few that were silly, exuberant confessions that I immediately burned… And one that I… sent to him. Anonymously.”

The Healer gasped slightly and leaned forward, clearly surprised by this information. “What did it say? Did he respond?”

“Er, no. He hasn’t. But I only sent it two days ago… Not that I’m expecting a response or anything, I doubt he will, but… but it hasn’t been too long…” He trailed off as he realized he was rambling. “I just wrote that I had feelings for him but wish to remain anonymous, but opening up to me might be liberating for him, so I hope he writes back. Or something along those lines.”

“That’s great! You should be really proud of yourself, that’s a huge step. And you’re right, it hasn’t been very long. He might just be thinking it over. So how do you feel about the whole thing? How did you feel when you sent the letter to him?”

Harry smiled. The truth was that yes, he felt a bit nervous, but the most prevalent feelings were solace, contentment, and gratification. His new homework assignment was to continue correspondence with his crush should he get a reply.

*             *             *             *             *

Four days later, he got a reply. Harry was just about to head down to breakfast when the large eagle owl swooped in his dorm room window. Alarmed, Harry looked frantically around the room. He exhaled shakily when he saw that he was alone. The last thing he needed was for someone to recognize Draco’s owl and start asking questions. _Alright. Ground rules: only use school owls._

Once his panic had subsided a bit, Harry took the scroll from the beautiful bird and watched as it took off through the window once more. He looked down at the scroll and slowly unrolled it. He took a deep breath and read.

 

_Dear Phoenix,_

_If your confession is to be believed, then I am flattered. If it is some ill-executed attempt at a prank, then I’m afraid that my intelligence far exceeds your own if you think I’d disclose anything incriminating. Whichever it is, my answer remains the same: how can I possibly put faith in a stranger? Anything you tell me will be kept confidential, as I have no idea who you are. Yet you know who I am, and therefore anything I tell you has the potential of being leaked to… well, anyone. So you see, this little arrangement will never work. I can’t possibly trust you unless you even the odds._

_With regrets (I’m sure),_

_Draco_

 

Harry thought. And thought. Draco was right, no one would confide in someone they didn’t know. _Bugger it all._ He had to convince him anyway. Maybe he could suggest just light small-talk? Or… hmm. No, there wasn’t much of a point to that. Maybe… he _could_ somehow even the odds without actually telling him his identity…

He hid the letter at the bottom of his trunk and went down to breakfast. He’d have to think about this.

*             *             *             *             *

Classes let out for the day and Harry trudged up the long route to his dormitory. He wasn’t on the Quidditch team this year, since eighth years weren’t allowed, so he didn’t have practice. His homework load wasn’t too bad either, as he was only taking classes for the NEWTs he was going to sit for. This meant that he didn’t have any obligations until dinner in two hours’ time, and therefore, no more procrastinating.

He extracted Draco’s letter from the bottom of his trunk, took out a fresh piece of parchment, and tried to collect his thoughts. How to even the odds? How to prove that he’s trustworthy? Harry began to write.

Over an hour and six crumpled up attempts later, Harry finally read over his finished letter:

_Dear Draco,_

_I understand, but I’m determined. To show you that this isn’t some prank, and that I am in fact trustworthy, I’m going to tell you something I haven’t told anyone… well, aside from one friend (who figured it out) and my Healer: I’m a bloke. I’m gay. I realize that this may put you off even more, but I hope you also realize that it’s my biggest secret that could destroy me- and I’m trusting you with it. Obviously I don’t expect you to return my feelings, and I would never come on to you. I just… would like to get to know you better. And if I can give you an outlet at the same time, even better. If I haven’t completely scared you off, I have a proposal. You can ask me questions, and I’ll answer them as long as they won’t reveal my identity. I won’t ask you anything in return. If and when you deem me trustworthy, we can start an actual conversation of sorts._

_If you accept, we need to establish some Ground Rules. I will not be outed, so don’t even try. Do not use your own owl. It is too identifiable. Only use the school owls. Also, do not time it so that I’ll receive your letters during meals. For all I know, you’ll track the damn owl and figure out who it delivered the letter to. I will also follow these rules so that you won’t have to answer any questions from your housemates. If you don’t follow these rules and I am outed, you can expect some nasty hexes when you least expect them. Or maybe just a broken jaw. We’ll see what kind of mood I’m in._

_Sorry for the threats. I may have feelings for you, but I don’t fully trust you, either. Please let me know if you accept my terms or if you want me to leave you alone. I hope it’s the former._

_-Phoenix_

Harry cringed as he rolled it up into a scroll. He hadn’t meant to come off so… threatening. But there was no way around it.

After dinner he went up to the owlery. He ensured that he hadn’t been followed before slipping inside. When he had delivered his first letter to Draco he had announced to all of the owls that he was “Phoenix,” and any letters addressed to that name should be delivered to him. He made the same announcement again this time, but after selecting a school owl and sending it off with his letter, he approached Draco’s owl.

While feeding it a treat, he asked that if Draco were to ask it to deliver a letter to “Phoenix,” then to please deliver it when he was alone. The majestic bird blinked once, then flew up to a higher perch. Harry sighed. He had resorted to pleading with owls.

*             *             *             *             *

Draco’s response came much quicker this time, and Harry was pleased to see that he had abided by the rules. A school barn owl was waiting for him in his dorm room after lunch. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone this time.

“Harry, you got a letter. Who’s it from?” asked Ron.

“I dunno, do I?” he answered as he nervously untied the scroll from the owl’s leg.

“Well, open it!”

Harry groaned internally. He was frantically trying to think of some explanation as he unrolled it when Dean walked in as well. _Great_.

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“Harry’s about to read it. Go on, mate,” Ron urged.

Harry pretended to read it as his mind raced. He had to nip this in the bud _now_ , if he was going to receive more owls from Draco. He had an idea.

“It’s from my Healer,” he answered as he looked up at his two friends.

“Your Healer? Why?” Ron asked.

“She’s been giving me little homework assignments, and she wants to start checking in more often since we only meet biweekly. I expect I’ll be getting letters from her periodically, so can you… not draw attention to it or anything? I don’t want everyone knowing that I… you know, still need to see her…” he trailed off. His palms were sweaty; he hoped that was convincing enough. It was pretty much true after all, at least how he felt about his continued meetings with her.

“Oh, of course, Harry,” Ron replied.

“Yeah, you can count on us,” Dean added.

Harry smiled at his friends and rolled up the letter, placing it deep in his inner pocket for later. “Thanks, guys.”

He would have to wait to satisfy his burning curiosity.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry didn’t get any alone time until he went to bed. He closed the hangings of his four-poster bed and cast a series of silencing and locking charms on them before taking out the letter that had been innocently mocking him all day. He took a calming breath, and then started to read.

 

_Dear Phoenix,_

_I agree to your terms, but I have one condition of my own. Do not lie to me. You may refrain from answering a question by telling me you wish not to, but do not attempt to throw me off course. I’ll keep any suspicions regarding your identity to myself. However, if I feel as though you are lying to me, I will immediately discontinue this correspondence. Now it’s your turn to agree to my terms._

_If I’m honest, I think it’s wise that you don’t trust me. I respect that kind of self-preservation, and your threats are valid. If I do somehow out you, then I won’t try to stop your attack. You seem… interesting. I like interesting._

_Let the questioning begin. I do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. First, I’d like to point out that you have revealed to me your apparently biggest secret, but you also mentioned that you’re still seeing a Healer. Not many people still are. May I ask why you still need to? I realize that may be a difficult topic, and so I don’t require an answer. I was merely curious. I do, however, require an answer to the following question: how old are you? It doesn’t bother me that you’re a bloke, but I will not entertain this… whatever this is, if you turn out to be a first year. I hope I don’t need to explain why that would be inappropriate. I would also like to know what house you’re in. What classes are you taking? What do you plan to do once you graduate? Are you the one who posted the gay confession on The Wall?_

_I suppose I had more questions than I thought. I must admit, I’m intrigued by your persistence. I am curious to know what about me caught your eye, if you’re willing to share. I might… trust you a bit more if you do._

_Your irresistible Slytherin,_

_Draco_

Harry rolled the letter back up and shoved it under his pillow. It didn’t pass his notice that half of Draco’s questions were designed to narrow down his identity. No surprise there. What _did_ surprise him was the fact that the blonde wasn’t even fazed by his confession. _That_ was interesting. Harry knew he’d have to tread very carefully, but he was up for the challenge.

*             *             *             *             *

The next morning, Harry woke up at an ungodly hour to ensure he’d have enough time before breakfast to write his response. He groggily got out of bed and crept across the room to the loo for a shower. When he returned, he felt slightly more awake. It was a start anyway. After quietly fishing out some parchment and a quill, he got back in bed and recast the privacy charms on his curtains and began to write.

 

_Draco, my irresistible Slytherin,_

_I can’t tell if you’re teasing me or not, but I must confess that I liked that line. But more on that later._

_I agree to your condition as well. I promise I won’t lie, but I make no promises to answer every question. I see exactly what you’re up to. You may keep your suspicions to yourself, but you are trying to discover my identity. Don’t underestimate me._

_To address each of your questions:_

_I see a Healer biweekly for reasons I do not wish to disclose. It’s personal, and quite painful. Although I am happy to say that I’m finally making progress._

_As for my age, yes, I see why it would be disturbing if I was eleven. Luckily I am not. I don’t want to tell you my exact age, because that combined with which house I’m in would give too much away. But I will say this: I’m either a seventh year and old for my year, or a returning eighth year and young for my year. As for my house, I’ll narrow it down for you. I’m not a Slytherin or a Hufflepuff. I’m taking the classes I need for my top career choice, which I don’t want to disclose. I happen to know, though, that you and I are taking several of the same classes. Regarding The Wall: I did not post the original gay confession… but I posted the response to it._

_Now, I think you wanted your ego stroked. I can oblige a bit. Although, I know I said I wouldn’t ask you anything in return, but I must know this if I’m going to be discussing my feelings for you. You said you didn’t mind that I’m a bloke… What does that mean exactly? You’re still flattered and you’re… open-minded? Or is this just something that amuses you? I’ll tell you a bit about why I fancy you if you assure me you won’t mock me for it. I promised not to come on to you, but this seems like a gray area. I’m just looking for clarification. In the meantime though, I’ll give you this: I do find you irresistible. Your hair is perfect, you’re fit, your eyes are intense and so expressive… I’m so attracted to you it’s hard to breathe when you’re near me. I’m surprised you never noticed me pathetically staring at you._

_Until you answer my question though, I’m afraid I’m only willing to share superficial facts. I need reassurance if you expect me to go deeper than that. I don’t care if that makes me seem weak; I’m exercising more of that self-preservation you like so much._

_Feel free to ask more questions. I do hope I’m beginning to earn your trust._

_I await your response, my Slytherin,_

_Phoenix_

 

Harry knew he was borderline flirting, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Draco opened the door, so he’d take advantage until he was told to stop. He grinned to himself as he made his way up to the owlery. This was actually starting to get a bit fun.

*             *             *             *             *

The letters were coming much more consistently after Harry sent that last one. Draco had responded that evening after dinner.

 

_My infatuated Phoenix,_

_I’m pleased that you agree to my terms as well, and that you are suspicious of me. I think we are similarly matched, you and I. And just for your information… I was teasing you. I’m glad you liked it._

_Thank you for answering most of my questions. I must admit, you answered more than I expected. I have a few more, though. If we are similar in age, then I must know you, or at least know who you are. Do I? And did you mean that we are taking the same subjects, or that we actually share several classes together?_

_On another note, I was wondering if you will be attending the party on Saturday in the Room of Requirement. If my house wasn’t hosting it, I don’t think I would be going… It holds painful memories for me, you see. But alas, I am a host, so I must. Anyway, will you be coming?_

_I’m quite relieved that you answered my question about The Wall post the way you did. It was a test of sorts, and you passed. I happen to know who made the original post, so I would have known you were lying if you told me it was you. However, I was surprised to hear that you wrote the response. My respect for you has just increased a tad, I think._

_Now to address your question: When I said that I didn’t mind that you’re a bloke, I meant that yes, I’m still flattered. And no, I won’t mock you about your feelings for me. To be perfectly honest, you had me grinning like a lunatic when you described how attracted to me you are. That was a nice ego stroke indeed. If you are so inclined, you may come on to me as much as you like. I don’t find it amusing; I find it flattering and endearing… I have a secret of my own that I believe I’m hinting at quite obviously. I’ll confirm it if you tell me more. _

_I hope you realize that I’m taking a huge risk, and that you have the power to make my life a living Hell. I’ll remind you that I’m choosing to trust you, as you asked. Please don’t break that trust, or I’ll send my personal owl after you in the middle of dinner when everyone is present, then out you and all of your other secrets._

_Sorry about the threats, but you understand._

_Fondly,_

_Draco_

Harry’s heart was hammering. He had _not_ been expecting that. Could Draco… be gay as well? Was that what he was hinting at? He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Either way, he was getting somewhere. Draco was beginning to open up.

He didn’t waste any time constructing his reply.

 

_Draco, my sexy Slytherin,_

_You have given me permission to come on to you, and so let the flirtations begin. However, if you wish for me to stop at any time, please don’t hesitate to say so. Not that I think you will hesitate; I have a feeling you like to let others know exactly what you want._

_You do in fact know who I am, but like I said, we aren’t friends. I’m not telling you whether or not we actually share any classes; that would give too much away._

_I will be attending the party on Saturday. Honestly, I don’t exactly want to, but my friends are forcing me. I know what awful memories the Room of Requirement holds for you, and I sincerely hope it isn’t too bad for you. I’ll be thinking of you._

_This secret of yours that you may confirm… does it have anything to do with the original gay post on The Wall? You said you knew who posted it… You also said that you welcome my advances and find them endearing… I believe I might have put together what your secret is, but it seems too good to be true. Please confirm it before I go mad._

_In return, I give you this:_

_I’ve had a crush on you for over a year. The reasons are too specific and too telling of who I am, but I’ll say this: they revealed that you’re a much better person than what everyone, including myself, thought. Then, when McGonagall first put up The Wall and you made one of the first posts… I must say I was impressed. You owned up to the horrible things you had to do, you apologized and expressed how regretful you are… how you were backed into a corner and what would happen to you and your family if you didn’t obey… All of it. It was courageous, and didn’t contain a drop of self-preservation. You put it all on the line in the hopes that people would understand. I really think that was a turning point for you._

_You’re also intelligent, witty, have a dry sense of humor, and you challenge people. Like I said before, you’re complex._

_I’ll also give you this to show you that I am also choosing to trust you:_

_I still see my Healer because I feel responsible for a number of deaths during the war. I should have reacted differently, done more to protect them… It’s my fault they’re dead. The war itself is another reason I still see her. I fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and I’ve seen and done things that will never leave my nightmares. The truth is, I should be dead. I mean that literally, not out of guilt. Physically, and logically, I should be dead. And the last reason I still see her is because I wasn’t adjusting to life after the war. That, however, is the one issue that I’m making progress with. Actually, the reason I sent you that first letter was because she gave me a homework assignment. I had a hard time telling her that I was gay, so in response, she told me to write letters to my crush. To you. I didn’t have to actually send them if I didn’t want to; it was just an exercise to get me to feel more comfortable with the whole thing. But I did send one, and here we are._

_On a lighter note… I do believe that I’ve earned your trust, yeah? Does that mean I get to ask you things now? The first that comes to mind is… are you single? I need to know who to glare at if you’re not._

_-Your charming Phoenix_

Harry sent the letter right before bed. It was the best night’s sleep he’s gotten in ages.

*             *             *             *             *

Draco’s response came on Friday morning, the day before the party. Harry was just leaving the Great Hall to get to his first class when the barn owl fluttered to a stop in front of him. Thankfully, he had already crossed the threshold and the heavy doors were swinging shut to shield him from prying eyes. He looked around frantically, but there was no blonde hair in sight. He quickly bent down and untied the scroll, shooing the owl off before anyone else noticed.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was about to start. Harry would have to wait to read the letter he’d been dying to receive, much to his annoyance. He hurried off to class.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry was finally able to read his letter when classes let out for lunch. He ate quickly, and then hurried up to his dorm room for some privacy. Once in the safety of his bed, he took out the letter and hungrily read.

 

_My charming and oh-so forward Phoenix,_

_You’re right, in that I do let others know exactly what I want. You would do well to remember that. That being said, please, by all means continue to call me sexy. I’m quite taken with the idea that you think so._

_Thank you for your thoughts. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow at the party then, though I won’t know it’s you._

_I guess I should confirm what I’m sure you have guessed. You held up your end by confiding in me all that you did, and I thank you for that. Now it’s only fair that I hold up my end. Just remember that I’m trusting you._

_I was the one that made the original gay post. I’m gay. I am not, however ready to come out, so that stays between us. But that is the reason for my disposition regarding your advances. I… welcome them. It’s nice knowing someone who is gay. Someone who is gay and who fancies me. I’ll have you know that I haven’t been happier. I wish you would tell me your identity. Maybe at the party? Have a few drinks to loosen up, and then whisper it in my ear. I assure you, it would be well received. Just think about it. _

_To answer your question if it isn’t obvious enough, yes, I am single._

_Even more fondly,_

_Draco_

 

Harry stared down at the parchment in awe as he read the words over and over. So Draco was gay. And he wanted to know who he, Harry, was because… well, because they were both _gay_. The brunette tried not to hyperventilate. He couldn’t. Draco may be into blokes, but he’d never be into Harry.

He shakily wrote out his short response, a lump forming in his throat.

 

_My forgiving Draco,_

_I’m so sorry… I can’t. I’m not ready to come out, even to you. I’m ecstatic that you’re gay as well, and I really think we can help each other. I’m just… not ready. I hope you’re not upset. If it makes you feel better, I think your hair looks especially hot today._

_I won’t tell you it’s me, but I promise I’ll talk to you at the party. Please keep an open mind._

_I hope you don’t hate me, as I still very much like you,_

_Phoenix_

 

Harry was able to send his letter off before afternoon classes started. He was on edge the whole rest of the day. That night, he couldn’t sleep. He kept tossing and turning, waiting for an owl that wouldn’t come.


	5. The Party

Harry awoke early Friday morning jittery and on edge. He took a scalding shower, packed up his school bag, and paced. It was still too early to go down to breakfast, so he quietly slipped out of Gryffindor tower and took off down the hall. He took a route he had been avoiding all year.

He was about to turn into the corridor in which the Room of Requirement was located.

Five more feet…

Two more feet…

There it was. He was at the T intersection. All he had to do was round the corner and he’d be able to see it. His feet didn’t seem to want to move. His heart was beating painfully in his chest and his throat felt constricted.

He could do this.

He took in a ragged breath and stepped forward until the Room of his nightmares was in view- and then stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes darted up the corridor, to the Room itself, then to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. His vision went dark as the memories he had been suppressing for so long came rushing back.

Breathing hard, he turned on his heel and tore back down the hall in which he came.

He couldn’t do this.

*             *             *             *             *

By the time Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, his vitals seemed to be back to normal with the exception of a light tremble to his fingertips. The additional adrenaline wasn’t helping his nerves, that was for sure. He was still anxious about how Draco would react to his refusal to disclose his identity. He supposed a bit of food might settle his stomach though, so he carefully loaded his plate. He distracted himself by listening to little snippets of conversation around him as he desperately tried to relax.

*             *             *             *             *

Classes weren’t any better. No owls were waiting for him after lunch or in between lessons, and Harry just couldn’t focus. Had he upset Draco so much that he just wouldn’t ever write back? That just wasn’t fair. Draco of all people should understand his reluctance. Besides, he wouldn’t just be coming out to Draco; he’d be admitting his feelings for him as well.

*             *             *             *             *

Afternoon classes finally let out and Harry quickly made his way to his dorm room. Still nothing. He couldn’t help the stab of disappointment that shot through his stomach. A moment later, he was joined by Ron and Dean who immediately started talking about the party. Harry immediately wanted to throw up.

The brunette went down to the common room to do a bit of studying before dinner. He couldn’t handle any more anxiety-inducing topics at the moment.

When it was time, he walked to dinner with Hermione, which was the safer choice. She wasn’t going to the party, so there was no reason for her to bring it up.

“You don’t have to go to the party, you know. I know you don’t want to.”

Harry groaned. “I do have to, though. Besides, Ron will never let me off the hook.”

“He can’t force you. You have nothing to prove. Stay in the common room with me,” she tried.

“I _do_ have something to prove, Hermione. To myself. If I don’t go there tonight, surrounded by people, then I never will. I’ll forever be… afraid of a room.”

He felt a light squeeze to his arm and looked at his friend. She was smiling sadly at him, but gave a little nod before releasing his arm. They walked the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.

*             *             *             *             *

Dinner went by much too quickly. Before he knew it, Harry was back in his room getting ready with his dorm mates. The only consolation to the party looming closer was the little tawny owl that flew in and dropped a scroll on Harry’s bed.

Elated, he flung himself on his bed and ripped open the scroll. What he saw did nothing to comfort him, however:

 

_I understand._

_-Draco_

 

Heart sinking, Harry went back to his wardrobe to finish getting ready. As if this day couldn’t get any more stressful.

*             *             *             *             *

It was time.

Harry, Ron, Dean, and Neville met up with Parvati and Ginny in the common room, and together they headed to the Room of Requirement. Ginny kept trying to match Harry’s pace, but he slowed down to walk with Ron instead. He was not about to deal with her on top of everything else.

They arrived at the T intersection, and Harry once again stopped dead, frozen. Noticing this, Ron paused as well, waving the rest of their group on. Once the others had disappeared behind the magical door, Ron turned to Harry with a hesitant look.

“C’mon, mate. There’s no fiendfyre, there’s no sleezy Slytherins that need rescuing. It’s just a party in a regular room.”

Harry gaped at his best friend. How was he not affected by this? Their classmate _died_ in there. _They_ almost died in there. He shuddered as he imagined what could’ve happened if he had died in that room, rendering him unable to defeat Voldemort. It was the subject matter of one of his most disturbing nightmares. It was _not_ just some- regular room. Not to him.

“I just need a few minutes,” Harry said, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

“Oh, come off it, Harry. Just take the plunge,” Ron answered as he gave the brunette a shove, causing him to take several steps into the corridor.

Harry flattened himself against the wall, a look of pure panic on his face, as he violently shook his head side to side. Ron just stared, taken aback, as Harry slid down the wall and sat, breathing hard.

“S-sorry… I’ll just give you a couple minutes, then. I’ll see you in there,” said Ron cautiously before he made his way into the Room of Requirement.

Harry watched him enter and disappear from sight, his whole body shaking. He bent his knees and rested his arms on them, his head on his arms.

He really couldn’t do this.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry wasn’t sure how long he sat there. Countless groups had walked past him and into the Room, with only a few pausing to ask him if he was alright here and there. Then there were footsteps- just a single pair- headed his way. He heard them falter as they approached the T, and then come to a stop right next to him. Harry kept his head down. Until-

“Potter…” Harry’s head snapped up. “C-can I join you?” Draco asked quietly. He looked downright terrified.

Harry nodded.

Draco slid down the wall and sat next to Harry, his arm brushing against the brunette’s. Harry could feel him shaking.

“I… can’t go in there just yet,” the blonde all but whispered.

Harry looked at the object of his affections and his heart broke a little at what he saw. His gorgeous, playful, sexy Slytherin was cowering on the floor, eyes wide and fearful, looking like he might break down at any moment. He looked exactly how Harry felt.

Before Harry could respond, a couple rounded the corner and continued down the corridor towards the dreaded Room. Both boys watched the couple’s progress. They paced back and forth in front of the spot on the wall three times until the door appeared. When it opened, Draco gasped and hugged Harry’s arm, shuddering violently. The brunette grabbed Draco’s arm in return, and together they watched the couple enter, music blaring in the background with people dancing, drinking, having fun-

And then the door shut and they were once again alone in the silent corridor. Draco continued to hold Harry’s arm. He actually surprised Harry by leaning in further and resting his forehead on his shoulder. The brunette gently rubbed the arm hugging his own until Draco shakily pulled away a moment later.

“I, um. I didn’t mean to… grab you like that, I-”

“It’s ok,” Harry interrupted. The blonde was refusing to meet his gaze.

Harry knew that this must be even more difficult for Draco than it was for him… He may not have been strong a few minutes ago, but he could be strong now, for Draco.

“I’ve been avoiding this corridor all year; it’s hard for me, too… Do you… want to go in together?” he tentatively asked the blonde.

Draco swallowed nervously, but then glanced at Harry before slowly nodding his head. The brunette took a deep breath, stood up, and then reached his hand out to Draco. The blonde hesitated, but then firmly grabbed it and allowed Harry to pull him to his feet. Neither let go for several moments as they both looked towards the Room. Harry’s hand was tingling with the warmth of his crush’s hand. When the blonde looked back at Harry, it became too much and the brunette shyly pulled his hand back, hoping that the warmth he was feeling wasn’t actually a flush to his cheeks.

The pair slowly closed the distance to the spot on the wall, and with only a brief hesitation, began to pace. Throughout the whole process, their arms were lightly pressed together, allowing them to maintain contact with each other. When the door swung open, that light contact became much firmer as they huddled closer together. Harry thought he heard Draco whimper faintly. His own heart was hammering frantically in his chest, but he knew it was up to him to get them both inside.

Harry gently placed his hand on the small of Draco’s back and led him inside the raging Room over to the bar. Draco allowed himself to be led as his eyes flitted around the room, wide and anxious.

The brunette poured two shots of Firewhisky and handed one to Draco, who downed it without even glancing at what it was. Harry took his shot as well before pouring them each another. Once their glasses were once again empty, he opened two bottles of ale, pushed one into Draco’s hand, and led him over to an unoccupied couch. He was pleased to see that the blonde had no intention of distancing himself from Harry’s side, as their arms _and_ their thighs were pressed together. Harry was trembling for two reasons now.

The two sat in silence for quite some time as they took in their surroundings and sipped their drinks. There was music blaring, people were dancing on a dance floor at one end, and socializing and playing games at the other end. Couples could be seen disappearing into private rooms at the back. Harry and Draco were seated on one of the couches wedged in the corner near the bar.

Finally, Draco broke the silence between them. “Thank you, Potter. For um, accompanying me in here, yes, but- but that’s not what I really wanted to thank you for. I mean…” he trailed off as he seemed to gather his thoughts. “I wanted to thank you for… speaking at my trial over the summer,” he quietly finished. Again, he wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes.

“Oh. Erm, you’re welcome. All I did was tell the truth. I saw you lower your wand when Dumbledoor… And you wouldn’t identify me at Malfoy Manor. And in this Room- you didn’t want to kill me. I know you didn’t want to do any of it…”

Draco was nervously wringing his hands and looking down at his lap. “Yes, well… your testimony is the reason I’m not in Azkaban.”

Harry gave a little nod as comprehension dawned on him. “So, this is why you haven’t talked to me all year, isn’t it?”

“Yes… I didn’t want to fall back into our old routine of fighting and being awful to each other. I’m still on probation, so I can’t get into any fights. I wasn’t sure what to expect from you.” The blonde finally looked up and gray eyes met green.

Satisfied and a bit relieved, Harry smiled as he answered, “I don’t hate you anymore. I actually have respect for you; that post you made on The Wall… it was quite Gryffindor of you.” His smile turned into a smirk when Draco lightly shoved him. He was happy to see the blonde smiling though.

“No more fighting then? So… does that mean we’ve reconciled?”

Harry grinned. “I suppose we have.”

*             *             *             *             *

Two more bottles of ale each later, Harry and Draco were finally ready to get up off the couch and try to make the most of this uncomfortable situation. They made their way over to the game area and looked around.

“Oi! Harry!” Ron called as he pushed through the crowd to where Harry and Draco were. “Glad you finally made it inside! Dean and I were about to start a game of pong. Want to join? You just need a partner.”

“Er, alright…” Harry replied. He had never played, but he thought he might as well keep himself busy. He immediately looked to Draco, who seemed a bit anxious. Scanning the Room, he noted that the only other Slytherin in their year present was Zabini, who was wrapped around a seventh year girl on the dance floor. “D- Malfoy, care to play?”

Looking utterly relieved, the blonde agreed and followed them over to the pong table. Harry let out the breath he’d been holding as the blonde appeared to have missed his almost-slip.

They arranged the cups into a triangle formation and filled each with some ale, as instructed by Dean. They learned the rules as they went.

Halfway through the game, Harry and Draco were quite buzzed- and quite giggly. Every ball they got into the other team’s cup would result in a ‘whoop’ of delight and a secret handshake, and every ball into one of their own cups would result in a dramatic display of ‘booing,’ collapsing on the table in mock-defeat, or pretend fainting. This was followed by hysterical laughter from the pair before one of them would down the contents of the cup, sloshing at least some of it over themselves.

When at last the game was won by an incredulous Ron and Dean, Harry and Draco were nicely drunk. Still laughing, the losing team went back to their couch and collapsed on it, Harry half in Draco’s lap as he clumsily sat. Neither seemed to notice.

The Room seemed to be spinning slightly, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care. He was having fun, and bonding with Draco Malfoy. He was ecstatic.

Just then, Draco leaned into the brunette a bit and said in a mock-whisper, but in actuality was still quite loud, “Hey Po-otter. Ever have a, um, a secret mirer? Admer? _Ad-mire-er_?”

Harry snorted before answering, “You don’t rem-ber all my psycho fans? I can’t get rid o’ em.”

“Oh yeah,” the blonde responded. “Well _I_ have one too. And, and they were s’posed to be here, but wouldn’t tell me who they are. Arsehole.”

Harry sobered a little at that. He had already almost slipped by calling him ‘Draco.’ He could not give anything away. “Oh. Someone likes you? You interested?” He couldn’t resist asking.

Draco looked away momentarily, but not before Harry caught sight of a slight blush spreading across the pale cheeks. When he turned back, he was more composed. “I am, if you must know.”

Fireworks erupted inside Harry’s stomach and it took all of his self-control to refrain from grinning like an idiot.

The blonde continued, “But how am I s’posed to _do_ anything ‘bout it if I dunno who they _are_?”

Harry chuckled at the petulant look on Draco’s face. “Be patient. Maybe they’re afraid that you won’t like them back if you find out who they are.”

“Fine, but it could be a Grinf… Gryf-fin-door. Aren’t you lot s’posed to be _brave_?”

The brunette laughed a bit nervously at that and gave a noncommittal shrug. He easily dropped the subject by getting them each another drink, which Draco happily accepted. They chatted a bit more about classes and other safe topics until Zabini came over and dragged Draco off to the dance floor to join a group of girls.

That was when Ginny ambushed him.

Sitting in Draco’s vacated seat, she locked eyes with him and said firmly, “Harry, I need to talk to you. In private. _Now_.”

Internally groaning, Harry stood a bit unsteadily and followed her to one of the private rooms. They went inside, and Ginny closed the door behind them before turning back to Harry.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” she demanded to know.

“Gin, I’m a bit, um, drunk, so I don’t think now is-”

“You will talk to me, Harry Potter. You seem coherent enough,” she interrupted.

Harry sighed. He supposed he was going to have to tell her. “Listen, I… I didn’t really mean to avoid you, I just…” This was harder than he thought. He’d never had to tell someone he no longer felt anything for them. She crossed her arms impatiently. He changed tactics. “I’ve been having a really hard time adjusting after the- the war. And being back _here_ , where it happened. I still see a Healer, you know.”

Ginny immediately uncrossed her arms and acquired a sad, pitying expression. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize… You’ll tell me when you’re ready to pick up where we left off though, right?”

Harry winced as his stomach dropped. “I- I just don’t think I’m interested in… well, anything like that right now. Maybe I will be after Hogwarts… Just don’t wait for me. Date other people if they ask you.”

Her eyes sharpened as she pinned him with a determined look. “I would wait for you forever. I understand, and I’m here for you as a friend until you’re ready to have me as a girlfriend again.”

With that, she closed the distance between them and flung herself at the shocked brunette. He caught her in his arms as she wrapped hers around his neck, and she crashed their lips together in a searing kiss. Harry just stood there, frozen to the spot as she ravished his mouth.

And then the door opened as Draco stepped inside. The blonde froze, while Harry pulled away from Ginny in horror. The three looked at one another in shocked silence for a moment before Draco seemed to realize what he’d walked in on.

“Sorry, I thought this was the loo,” Draco muttered, eyes cast downward as he quickly backed out of the room.

Harry used the interruption as an excuse to flee. “I should, um, get back. Look, please don’t wait for me,” and then he was back in the middle of the party.

He sought out Ron, Dean and Neville and quickly joined in their conversation about who was the best and the worst dancers on the dance floor. Harry was once again laughing and having fun, until a certain blonde rejoined Zabini’s group and started to dance. He watched as his mouth went dry and his stomach did back flips. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was quite satisfying when none of his friends could find anything to criticize.

*             *             *             *             *

The group of Gryffindors stumbled their way back to their dormitory, laughing and chatting the whole way. Harry was smiling along with them, but was quietly reflecting on the night instead of joining in the conversation. He was quite proud of himself. He overcame his fear and entered the Room of Requirement, he reconciled with his crush and had a great time with him, and he finally got Ginny to leave him alone. Yes, he was quite proud indeed.

*             *             *             *             *

When the boys finally made it up to their dorm and were collapsing into their beds, it was well past midnight. Harry was exhausted and still feeling fuzzy, but there was one more thing he wanted to do before he succumbed to sleep. Giggling quietly to himself, He took out a piece of parchment and a quill and sat at his desk to write.

 

_My sexy dancer, pleasantly drunk, and ~~hillarus~~ hilarious Draco,_

_I saw you at the party. I’m so ~~incrdab~~ incredibly proud that you even went. You looked like you had a blast, too. I’m sorry I won’t tell you who I am, but I did keep my promise. We talked. And I watched you dance. So hot. Please don’t be mad at me. My ~~affetons~~ affections for you are only getting worse. Stronger, I mean. So write back, you baby._

_Love,_

_Your flaming admirer, Phoenix_

 

Grinning, Harry stumbled his way up to the owlery and sent off his letter. The way back down proved to be more of a challenge, as Harry fell on his arse twice, but he didn’t mind. He couldn’t wait for the response he somehow knew would come. He slept soundly and peacefully that night, having pleasant dreams for the first time in a very long time.


	6. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I got horribly sick. To make it up to you, I'm posting two chapters!
> 
> Also, there are a few times where I switch to a different POV. This will be preceded by the following:  
> * * * * *
> 
> * * * * *
> 
> (Two lines of asterisks instead of one.) Hopefully it's not confusing. If it is, please let me know!

Everything hurt. Harry was being blinded by the light in the room even through his closed eyelids, his head felt like Voldemort had taken up residency inside it, and he felt like he had been trampled by a hippogriff. Someone was talking. He was going to murder them.

“-OW, bloody owl!” yelled Neville.

“Fuck’s sake, shut up,” croaked Ron.

“Where’s your stash of hangover potion, Dean?” asked some girl in her shrill, high-pitched girl voice.

 _Her_. Harry was going to kill _her_. He groaned.

“Harry. Owl,” came Neville’s voice again.

“Everyone. Shut. Up. Or I’m _going_ to vomit,” said Ron.

“Dean! Hangover potion!”

Seriously, how shrill could her voice get? Each syllable reverberated inside Harry’s skull. Why the bloody fuck was she even here?

“Trunk. There’s enough for everyone, I think,” Dean answered, voice thick with sleep.

_Thank Merlin._

There was some rustling, and then a moment later Harry felt a tap to his shoulder. “This better be hangover potion, or I swear I’ll-”

“It is,” came the stupid, high-pitched girl voice again as a flask was being pushed into his hand.

He took a generous swig and then handed it back, finally able to open his eyes. The pain was receding and his stomach wasn’t lurching dangerously anymore. He sighed in relief as he identified this mystery girl. It was Padma Patil. Odd. She wasn’t seeing Dean…

Padma averted her gaze and awkwardly handed the flask back to Dean after taking a sip of her own. She was still fully dressed from the night before, although her blouse was a wrinkled mess and her skirt was on backwards. She immediately left the dorm room without another word.

_Ahh. Walk of shame._

“Now please do something about this owl, Harry. It’s already bitten me twice!” Neville said after his dose of the potion.

_Oh right. Owl. I wonder…_

Harry sat up and saw a large barn owl circling the room. When it noticed him watching it, it swooped down to Harry’s bed and extended its leg, where a neat scroll was tied. The brunette hastily untied it and opened the letter. Maybe Draco had forgiven him and written…

 

_My enamored, flaming Phoenix,_

_I very much enjoyed your letter from last night (or should I say this morning). I do believe you must have been quite inebriated when you composed it, and so I have enclosed a copy of it since you can’t possibly remember it._

 

Harry’s stomach lurched again as panic started to set in. He frantically flipped to the second page, where sure enough was a letter he had written in his drunken state:

 

_My sexy dancer, pleasantly drunk, and ~~hillarus~~ hilarious Draco,_

_I saw you at the party. I’m so ~~incrdab~~ incredibly proud that you even went. You looked like you had a blast, too. I’m sorry I won’t tell you who I am, but I did keep my promise. We talked. And I watched you dance. So hot. Please don’t be mad at me. My ~~affetons~~ affections for you are only getting worse. Stronger, I mean. So write back, you baby._

_Love,_

_Your flaming admirer, Phoenix_

 

Harry wanted to die. How completely mortifying. He cringed as his insides squirmed in discomfort. At least he didn’t tell the Slytherin anything he shouldn’t have; he just made a complete arse out of himself. It could have been worse. Sighing, Harry flipped back to the first page and continued reading Draco’s response.

 

_I especially liked the parts about my ‘hot’ dancing and about your feelings for me only getting ‘worse’. I must say, it was highly entertaining. Despite the hilarity of your drunken letter, I must admit I’m impressed; you remembered the security and anti-identification spells. Well done._

_I actually had quite a bit of fun last night, surprisingly. I hope, judging by the state you were in to be able to write such a letter, that you did as well. I still would very much like to know who you are. I socialized with numerous blokes at the party, and found each interaction to be quite enjoyable. If I did, in fact, talk with you as you claim, then I must say you have nothing to worry about. I urge you to think on it._

_So, my flaming admirer, did you do any dancing last night? You must at least tell me something about your appearance. It’s not fair that you get to admire my beauty whenever you like and I haven’t the slightest clue what you look like. I demand to know at least one physical characteristic; my fantasies need some inspiration. What I would give to shove you up against a wall… I bet you’d thoroughly enjoy that._

_Don’t keep me waiting._

_Your smitten Slytherin,_

_Draco_

Harry stared down at the parchment in shock. The squirming of his insides quickly subsided as a warmth took its place, spreading through his lower stomach and south. He couldn’t believe it. His idiot drunken self somehow managed to break down the blonde’s walls and catch his fancy. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back and waited for his dorm mates to leave for breakfast. In the meantime, he went through his morning routine, and when it was time, said that his stomach still wasn’t ready for food. When the others finally left him, he sat down at his desk to write.

 

_My smitten Slytherin, Draco,_

_I’m pleased that you enjoyed ‘idiot, drunk’ Phoenix. You’re right, I have no memory of writing or sending that letter. I would say that I regret it, however it seems to have had an effect on you._

_I had fun last night too, and I assure you, we talked quite a bit. I think it might have been the best interaction we’ve ever had together. Even so, I still can’t tell you who I am. I’m not convinced that you’d be receptive if you knew, and I’m just not ready to come out. I’m sorry, but that’s my answer. Maybe, maybe things will be different after Hogwarts… Please don’t be upset; I’d still very much like to continue our correspondence._

_That being said, I will oblige and answer your question: I did not dance at all last night. I… don’t dance. I loved watching you, though. To answer your other question (or demand, I should say), I’ll give you this: I have very dark hair, and it’s a bit longer. Well, not long, but it isn’t buzzed or very short. I won’t say just how long it is though. I’m also fit I suppose. I mean, I’m toned from an active lifestyle, but not overly muscular. I’ve been told that I’m fit. I hope those details will sufficiently fuel your fantasies. I must say, I was very pleased to hear that you think of me that way._

_I would love it if you shoved me against a wall… that’s one of my fantasies, if I’m honest. If you had me up against a wall, I would sink my fingers into that gorgeous, silk-blonde hair of yours. I bet it’s nice and soft. Would you press your hips into mine, or simply snog me senseless? Frankly, I’d be quite content with either. _

_Since we’re back to asking each other questions though, I have a few of my own. Given some of the subject matter of our letters these days, I must ask: do you have actual experience with blokes, and if so, how much? I only ask because I wouldn’t know where to start to even attempt anything with another bloke. There aren’t exactly many openly gay blokes at Hogwarts. Obviously, I’m admitting to you that I don’t have any experience with blokes. Sharing fantasies with you is the most I’ve done. I’ve been with a few girls, but never… all the way. My other question is when did you know that you’re gay? I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I just recently figured out that I am. I knew I wasn’t really into anything physical with girls, which is why I never went all the way. That was my decision. But I didn’t realize that I didn’t like girls at all and that I’m gay until things settled down in my life. I had a lot going on (things I don’t wish to disclose because they’d make it too obvious), and only recently had time to really think. When did you know?_

_I find you so intriguing; the more I learn about you, the more I like you. I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before. That’s why the thought of telling you my identity is so intimidating. I couldn’t handle a rejection. I would rather have you like this, because it would be really hard for me to fuck this up. I just hope you understand that I’m refusing to tell you out of sheer selfishness and self-preservation, and not because I’m playing with you. As a Slytherin, you should respect that._

_Love,_

_Your enamored and interested Phoenix_

 

Worried he had said way too much, Harry quickly made his way up to the owlery and sent his letter off before he could change his mind. Needing the distraction, he then headed down to the library where he was sure Hermione would be. She would force him to study for their end-of-term exams before the holiday, and right now that was just fine with him.

*             *             *             *             *

By the time lunch came, Harry had almost forgotten about his letter. Hermione had completed the task of distracting him by making him finish two essays and revise for every single subject he was taking, all within three hours. He was mentally exhausted.

He sat with his housemates and Hermione, listening to their chatter as he shoveled food into his mouth. They were going on about revisions and other homework, which Harry had just done, so he decided to read The Wall when he finished eating. He made his over to it and was just starting to scan the posts when he heard someone clear their throat next to him. He turned and was surprised to see that it was the very person he had been trying _not_ to think about.

“Potter,” Draco greeted.

“Malfoy,” Harry returned, pleased that he hadn’t slipped up and called him by his given name.

They both scanned The Wall in silence for a few moments before Draco broke it again. Harry was trying not to fidget.

“Sorry if I ruined your moment with the girl Weasley last night,” the blonde said, his eyes never leaving The Wall.

“Oh. No, er, you didn’t. Actually, I was glad for the interruption. I was trying to tell her that I didn’t want to pick back up where we left off. I’m not interested in her anymore. She wasn’t exactly listening…” he trailed off.

“You mean to say that when I walked in, you had just finished telling her that it’s over?” he asked, and incredulous look on his face.

“I- yes…” Harry replied.

“Salazar, I always teased you about your inarticulation and overall thick-headedness, but I honestly never believed you were _actually_ that bad. Clearly I was mistaken.”

Harry glanced over at the blonde- and found him _smirking_. He shoved his arm lightly as a smile took over his face without his permission.

Draco laughed. He actually laughed. Butterflies were dancing and soaring around Harry’s stomach, not unpleasantly.

“So you remember everything from last night, then. Does that mean we’re still on good terms?” Draco asked.

Harry beamed. “Yes, I’d say so.”

Draco beamed back, and it was directed at Harry. The brunette used all of his will power not to outwardly swoon.

*             *             *             *             *

After lunch, Harry broke away from his housemates once more and headed up to his Healer meeting. He sank down into the chair opposite her and smiled as she greeted him.

“Good to see you, Harry! Almost ready for Christmas? Your break starts when, next week some time?” she asked.

“Just about. I might need one more trip to Hogsmeade, but I’m getting there. I have exams Monday and Tuesday, and we leave for break Wednesday morning.”

“Ahh, good, good. I bet you could use the time away. How are things going?”

Harry couldn’t help the grin that split his face. He launched into telling her all about the party, and how he and his crush helped each other overcome their fear of the Room of Requirement and then spent a significant amount of time talking and bonding after. He had never been more animated in any of these sessions.

When he finished telling her all about that, he dove into his letter correspondence with his crush, and how he’s made quite an impression. When he finally stopped his rhapsodizing, he was slightly out of breath.

The Healer was grinning from ear to ear, and Harry blushed crimson as he realized that he had been gushing to her about his crush for the past twenty minutes.

“I am so happy for you, Harry. You finally sound like a normal, well-adjusted teenager. You’ve made so much progress. I’m so proud.”

Harry smiled back at her. He _did_ feel more normal than he ever had before.

After a bit more discussion, the Healer decided that he no longer needed standing appointments. Harry could make appointments as needed instead.

He left the appointment feeling normal, and much lighter than he had after any of their previous meetings. He couldn’t wait to tell Draco in his next letter.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry didn’t get a response from Draco that day, or the next for that matter. He wasn’t worried. He had asked some difficult questions, which might take some time to answer, and it was the day before exams. It was hard to be worried about anything with Hermione harping on him to study every waking moment. He’d get a response tomorrow after exams. He went to bed Sunday night thoroughly exhausted.

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

Draco had spent the entire weekend revising, and he was spent. At 10:00 Sunday night, he finally put away his books and stretched. He pulled out the letter he had written to Phoenix and smiled to himself as he reread it. It was a bit… graphic- well, more so than anything they had written before- and he had a feeling it would spark quite a reaction from his admirer. He smirked as he rolled up the letter and sauntered up to the owlery.

When he arrived, he found a tawny owl and started to tie the letter to its leg. Or… he had already tied the-  the what? He tied the… thing. He tied something to… which owl? He looked around the circular room. It was a circle! He must have tied the thing to an owl across the circular room and gotten turned around. He had already sent off the owl. It was done. Just _what_ was done, he couldn’t be sure, but whatever it was, it was done. He smiled as he strode from the owlery and back to the Slytherin dorms.

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

As soon as the Death Eater scum left the owlery, Cormac McLaggen cast _Finite Incantatum_ on himself, removing the Disillusionment charm. He opened the scroll in his hand and quickly skimmed it, a maniacal grin dominating his face as he took in the words.

_Oh yes. This is the perfect retribution for that vile little shit._

It was by chance that McLaggen happened to come across the Death Eater with no one else in sight. He took full advantage and followed him up to the owlery. It was too easy. A quick Confundus charm was all it took. The piece of vermin never knew what hit him.

McLaggen rolled the scroll back up and shoved it inside his robes pocket as he hastily moved through the castle, constructing his master plan along the way.


	7. Unexpected Repercussions

The next morning at breakfast, Harry absently loaded his plate as he studied his notes for his first exam of the day one last time. He felt fairly prepared, but this was his last exam before the NEWTs and he had a feeling it would be much more difficult than what he was used to. There was a lot of chatter and a large group around The Wall, but he paid it no mind as he worked on memorizing every word on his parchment.

Over at the Slytherin table, Draco was doing the same.

*             *             *             *             *

Two exhausting exams later, it was finally time for lunch. Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall and all but collapsed into their seats. Hermione immediately started on about how she may have mixed up one ancient rune with another, and that she hoped her twelve inches- _twelve!_ \- would be enough on the essay portion.

Harry just couldn’t stomach that. He ate quickly and tried to tune her out as best as he could. He started hearing snippets of the chatter around him, and glanced over at The Wall. There must be an interesting new post if the huge group surrounding it was any indication.

Finished with his meal, Harry got up and strode over to where everyone was gathered and peered up, trying to find the source of all the gossip. It didn’t take long, and what he found made him nearly lose his lunch right then and there.

Posted right at eye level, with another note above it with giant arrows pointing at it was what looked to be a letter. A letter that looked awfully like Draco’s letters. A letter… addressed to Phoenix. _Oh God._ The note above it read:

 

_ATTENTION ALL OF HOGWARTS,_

_I TOOK THIS STRAIGHT FROM THE SOURCE. THE DEATH EATER IS EVEN MORE OF A DEVIANT THAN ANY OF US KNEW. THIS LETTER PROVES THAT HE IS DISGUSTING AND UNWORTHY OF THE ACQUITTAL HE SOMEHOW COERCED._

_BRINGING YOU JUSTICE,_

_CORMAC MCLAGGEN_

 

There were too many witnesses. Harry couldn’t run, it would be much too obvious. Maybe the letter wouldn’t have anything too incriminating in it. _Please have nothing incriminating in it…_ He took a steadying breath, jammed his hands in his pockets as he attempted an air of nonchalance, and began to read.

 

_My enamored and titillated Phoenix,_

_I’m quite put out that you won’t reveal your identity to me, but I suppose I do respect your reasoning. Are you certain you aren’t in Slytherin? Regardless, I will insist upon revisiting this after Hogwarts, as you have suggested. And, I will not be quite so understanding if you continue to deny me._

_I’ll answer your questions, but only because you answered them first. It appears that you’re learning that I don’t enjoy having to wait. Very good. Regarding my experience with blokes, my answer is the same as yours, as it happens. I do also have experience with girls, but I was more aware of my situation even then, so it was a conscious decision for me not to take things too far with any of them. That leads me to your next question. I realized that I’m gay in fourth year. It was at the Yule Ball, and I found myself wishing that I was dancing with certain blokes instead of my own date. Everyone was in their best dress robes and I couldn’t tear my eyes away._

_Thank you for sharing a few physical characteristics. They helped fuel my fantasies quite nicely indeed. I am especially pleased to learn that the scenario I shared is a fantasy of yours. Somehow I knew you’d love playing the submissive. Allow me to continue it:_

_After I had you shoved against the wall, I would grind my hips into yours until there could be no question as to your excitement. I’d be very interested to see just how well-endowed you are. I would not, however, allow you to touch my perfect hair. Not unless you’ve earned it. I’d bind your wrists up above your head and yes, I’d snog you senseless. I’d ravish your mouth until you were panting for breath, and then I’d kiss down your neck, marking you. I’d rip open your shirt and trail kisses down your chest, then lick a path down your abdomen until I reached your waistband. I’d need to feel for myself just how fit you are._

_Tell me what you want, Phoenix. I can make your wildest fantasies come true. What I would give to do this for real; you have no idea the effect you have on me. I find myself thinking about you constantly. I don’t even know who you are, yet I’m quite certain that I’m falling for you too. As frustrating as your anonymity is, I would rather have this correspondence than nothing._

_Love,_

_Your besotted Slytherin, Draco_

 

Harry was going to be sick. That was _very_ incriminating. And bloody _hot_. Luckily, he was too anxious to get a hard-on. Small victory, he supposed. He inwardly cringed. What was he thinking? This was absolutely horrible, how could he be thinking about potential hard-ons? Not the time. Alright, he had to remember to breathe. He couldn’t seem as utterly panicked as he was actually feeling. It was OK to look surprised, as it was fairly shocking to see a letter like that posted, but nothing more. Right. He could do this. His reaction matched everyone else’s. Nothing suspicious here.

He made to turn so that he could flee the Great Hall, and almost smacked right into someone. Right into… Hermione. Hermione, who was staring at him. Suspiciously.

 _Fuck_.

*             *             *             *             *

His bushy-haired friend guided him back to their table and he sat next to her, wishing desperately that she’d just let him bolt from the Hall.

“It’ll look suspicious if you leave lunch twenty minutes early directly after reading that post,” she muttered as if she had read his mind.

She was right. He groaned quietly and nodded his head in agreement. He would stay, but that didn’t mean he’d be happy about it.

“Harry?” she asked. “Is there… something-”

“ _Move_. I’ve been told there’s a post that directly affects me, now get out of my way,” came the impatient voice of Draco Malfoy as he made his way to The Wall.

Harry’s insides lurched violently as his head snapped to the side to watch the train wreck that was sure to come.

The crowd parted for the blonde, many of them snickering or calling insults. Draco stiffened as some of those insults included “pouf” and “shirt-lifter.”

The entire Hall seemed to go silent as Harry watched Draco’s world fall apart in horror. The proud Slytherin read the note from McLaggen, and then realized the letter underneath was his own. Harry was able to pinpoint the exact moment that Draco realized he had been outed. His heart broke at what he saw.

Draco paled and froze for a moment before whipping his wand out and attempting to remove the letter from The Wall. He frantically cast spell after spell, but it remained firmly stuck and unscratched. He tried burning it, he tried posting another piece of parchment over it, he tried transfiguring it, vanishing it, turning it invisible… Each spell brought more desperation and panic to the blonde.

The group surrounding him dispersed as McGonagall bustled down the row between the house tables and reached Draco. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Take it down!” he all but shouted.

Affronted, she sharply replied, “Mr. Malfoy, you will not speak to me that-”

“You have to take it down! Look at it! You can’t keep it up there, I can’t…” he trailed off, his eyes pleading as he looked to her for help she couldn’t provide.

McGonagall looked up at The Wall, scanned the post and the accompanying note, and all irritation melted away from her. She met Draco’s vulnerable eyes, and was forced to destroy him. “Oh, Mr. Malfoy. I am so sorry. The Wall is charmed to permanently stick all posts to it, and to protect them from all spells. It will take me at least a few days to remove all of the enchantments to be able to take it down.”

Draco’s jaw dropped and he looked downright terrified. His eyes flitted around the Hall for the first time since discovering his worst nightmare had come true, and he was struck with the realization that half the school had already seen it.

“Why don’t you see Madame Pomfrey for a Calming Draught? I’m sure that will-”

He cut her off with a strangled cry before fleeing the Hall in a near-run, his eyes cast downward and face flaming. The heavy doors creaked shut behind him, and then the Hall burst into loud chatter and laughter.

Harry didn’t stay long enough to hear what was being said about his Slytherin. He left as soon as Hermione deemed it acceptable.

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

Draco was holed up in his dorm room on his bed, the hangings firmly closed and charmed shut. Millicent Bulstrode was outside them trying to get him to come out. He buried his face in his pillow. He just wanted to wallow in his misery in peace.

“Come on, Draco, you can’t stay in there forever. Talk to me. I know more about this than you might think.”

Draco lifted his head from the pillow and hesitated a moment before responding. “Go on,” he said quietly.

“Well, you remember sixth year,” she started. “That bitch Ravenclaw, I never learned her name, started that rumor that I was a lesbian. There are _still_ people that think it’s true.”

He did remember. That was a nasty rumor, and everyone was horrid to her. Absolutely merciless. He sighed. “Fine. I’m listening.”

“I only meant that I sympathize. I know a bit about what you’re going through. It was terrible enough for me and it’s not even true. It must be unbearable for you, seeing as this time it _is_ true. But I learned to cope, and I can help you.”

She sounded genuine. Draco groaned. He missed Pansy. She may have been a bint, but she was his best friend. She just _had_ to suggest turning Potter in to the Dark Lord. Now she was on the run, afraid that she’d end up in Azkaban if the Ministry ever got a hold of her.

Draco wiped his eyes and rolled onto his back. Millie would have to do as a replacement. “Alright. Help me how? Do you have a Time Turner lying around? Or do you plan on murdering that fuck McLaggen?”

“Neither,” she answered calmly. “I’m going to remind you of how to be a Slytherin. It’s easy to forget in this state of mind, but forgetting will only make it infinitely worse.”

“I know how to be a Slytherin, for fuck’s sake! If that’s your way of ‘helping’ me, then just bugger off and leave me alone,” he snapped.

“Draco, tell me. What are you doing right now? And don’t leave anything out.”

He paused. “I- I’m lying in bed, and I’m talking to you.” Honestly, he didn’t have the patience for this.

“What else?” she persisted.

The blonde sighed. She wasn’t going to leave him alone. “I’m lying in bed, hiding behind my curtains and reluctantly talking to you.”

“What. Else? You think I can’t hear it in your voice?”

 _Ugghhh_. “I’m _crying_ , alright? I’m cowering in bed, hiding from everyone as I fucking cry. Is that what you want me to say?” He sniffled loudly as if on cue, his already flushed cheeks turning a few shades darker.

“Yes. And that’s exactly my point. What would people say if they saw you like this?”

Draco scoffed. No one would dare say anything, even if they _did_ see him like this. He said as much to Millie.

“Ahh. Maybe you didn’t notice earlier in the Great Hall. You were a bit distracted, so you can’t be blamed, but you clearly didn’t hear the entire student body. Just about everyone was either laughing at you or mocking you, while the rest ensured that the entire school had heard about it.”

Draco inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut. He remembered the ‘pouf’ and ‘shirt-lifter’ comments now. How was he supposed to face anyone? He didn’t _want_ to come out, it wasn’t his choice. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow again. He had worked his arse off at the beginning of the school year to humble himself, own up to his mistakes and earn his second chance. All of which went against all of his instincts, but he still did it. People respected him again. They may not have feared him like they once did, but he still had authority over them because he had earned it. Now… what? He had nothing. He had lost all that he worked for. How could he come back from this?

Millie cleared her throat, bringing Draco back to reality. He quickly took a deep breath to calm himself when he realized that he had been sobbing softly. _Well, he’d never be able to look her in the eye now_. He scowled at the wet pillow.

“First thing you need to do: you need to put on that famous Malfoy mask. Pretend it doesn’t bother you. Act confident, like you’re not ashamed. No one can exploit your weakness if they can’t find one.”

“I’m _not_ ashamed, I just- I didn’t want to be judged, or- or anything to change. I just want everything to stay the same. I’m still the same person.”

“Then act like the same person. Don’t act different ly, and you won’t be treated differently.”

Draco sat up. She had a point…

Just then, the door opened, and heavy footsteps approached as the door shut behind this person.

“Here’s your practice run,” Millie whispered.

_Salazar’s sake._

“Draco. We need to talk.” It was Blaise, and he did not sound amused.

The blonde sniffled quietly and wiped his eyes before cancelling the locking charm on his curtains and slowly opening them. He kept his eyes cast firmly downward.

“How the fuck have I known you for this long, _lived_ with you for this long, without knowing that you’re bloody _gay_?” Blaise practically shouted.

Draco flinched and turned his head away slightly.

“I could give two shits about you being gay. You just could’ve bloody told me.”

Draco had to put a stop to this, he couldn’t just sit here and take it. Millie was right. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, and then got to his feet in front of Blaise. He paused a moment, but then determinedly lifted his gaze up to his angry friend’s.

The blonde looked composed enough, with the exception of his tense muscles, the flush to his cheeks, and his red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said quietly, a slight tremble in his voice.

Blaise crossed his arms and glowered.

Draco raised his chin in challenge, but his eyes held nothing but fear.

Blaise sighed and uncrossed his arms, his expression relaxing slightly. “It was your most guarded secret, wasn’t it? One you never intended to share.”

The blonde inclined his head in affirmation, not trusting his voice.

His dark-haired friend seemed to deflate. He hesitated, appearing to be debating with himself on something, and then he was pulling Draco into an awkward, but not unwelcome hug. They embraced for a few moments, and then promptly pulled away.

Blaise broke the silence. “That, um… that wasn’t a- a _gay_ gesture, that was just me being a friend. A _straight_ friend-”

Draco shoved him hard, but they both ended up smiling. “Arsehole.”

Blaise smirked. “You wouldn’t have me any other way. Listen, I still think you should’ve told me, but I um… I _am_ here for you. You still have friends.”

The blonde sobered at that. He gave a nod as he looked between Blaise and Millie. “I know.”

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

Harry could barely focus. It was Tuesday and he was taking his last exam of the term. He had heard that McGonagall made special arrangements for Draco to take his exams in her office so that he would be able to concentrate and not be harassed. Harry still couldn’t help worrying. The blonde’s reaction the previous day… _No_. He couldn’t think about that right now. He had an exam to complete.

*             *             *             *             *

Wednesday morning came and Harry was just finishing packing for Christmas break. He had been quietly losing his mind with anxiety over what happened to Draco. He thought about writing to him, but decided against it. The Slytherin likely needed some time to handle… _this_. And Harry… well. He had to figure out how to handle it as well.


	8. The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has been leaving awesome comments! You're the best!
> 
> This chapter is a little boring (not gonna lie), but I feel like it was necessary. I wanted there to be way more in this chapter, but it made sense to end it where I did. This part ended up being way longer than I expected it to be. Oh well... I'm hoping to update again either tomorrow or the next day! Enjoy!

The Burrow was a welcome distraction from all the drama and gossiping at school. Harry had thought about declining the Weasley’s invitation and spending the holiday alone at Grimmauld Place, but he didn’t think he could bear it under the circumstances. Although now, he was starting to regret that decision.

“So Harry, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days but something has always come up. Now, I’m going to have to insist that we speak.”

Of course. He knew this was coming. Hermione never gives up. Harry mentally prepared himself for the uncomfortable, embarrassing conversation he knew was coming as he followed her silently up to the room she shared with Ginny. Said roommate was currently helping her mother with dinner, so the two friends had the room to themselves.

“Go on, then,” he sighed as he sat down on Hermione’s transfigured bed.

She sat down next to him and pinned him with a penetrating stare. “You’re ‘Phoenix.’” It wasn’t a question.

Harry inhaled sharply and dropped his gaze down to his lap as he felt his cheeks flush. _So, there would be no easing into it, then. Right._ “I… um. Yes, alright?” he accidentally snapped at her. He winced slightly before looking up at her, a mixture of guilt and vulnerability in his eyes.

Hermione’s sharp gaze softened at his silent apology and she nodded her head once. “Well. I knew you liked him, but you’ve been writing to him anonymously as well… What was the end game supposed to be?”

Harry groaned. “What do you mean, you knew I like him?” She just smirked. He groaned again before continuing. “I dunno, Hermione. I… don’t think there really _was_ an end game before all this. Now… now I haven’t a clue. He keeps asking me to tell him my identity and I keep telling him no, that I don’t want to come out. Given what’s happened to him and how everyone is reacting, I sure as hell don’t want to come out now. I mean, he, of all people should understand that.”

Hermione looked thoughtful for a few moments before turning back to Harry. “Who said telling him your identity would mean you would also have to come out?”

The brunette stiffened at that. He shook his head ‘no’ as his mind scrambled to put together a coherent thought in its near-panicked state. “Absolutely not. No. I don’t want him to know it’s me. I’ve… said a lot in my letters, I’ve told him just how- how strongly I feel about him and… no. He can’t know it’s me. He wouldn’t want to know it’s me… It would be an instant rejection and I’m not putting myself through that. And if by some _miracle_ he didn’t reject me, we’d have to sneak around, and I don’t want that. No.”

His bushy-haired friend just stared at him for a moment. “I’ve seen you two interact recently. I know he doesn’t hate you anymore. What makes you think he’d reject you?”

Harry just covered his face with his hands and sighed. “Please, Hermione. Just drop it. I can’t risk it, it would completely destroy me. My answer is no.”

He felt a light squeeze to his upper arm, and when he glanced up, Hermione was smiling sadly at him. “Okay,” she said quietly as she rubbed his arm.

He gave a small smile back, and they sat there for a few minutes in comfortable silence.

*             *             *             *             *

 

After dinner, Harry and Ron offered to clean up, since the girls did the cooking. Once alone in the kitchen, Ron couldn’t help once again bringing up his favorite topic as of late.

“I just can’t believe one of the mystery gay blokes is Malfoy! I mean… it’s _Malfoy_!” Ron said for probably the tenth time.

Harry sighed. “Yes, Ron. I know.” Honestly, he could only humor his friend so many times.

“Hey! You don’t think… in the Quidditch locker room-”

“Ron. Stop. Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he invades everyone’s privacy any chance he gets. Being gay doesn’t mean he likes _every_ bloke, either.” Harry was getting seriously annoyed now.

“You’re defending him? What if he got a look at you and- and leaked it to the _Prophet_?”

“He could’ve done that without being gay. That has nothing to do with it. And yes, I’m defending him because he doesn’t deserve all this slander based on something he can’t control-”

“Slander? It’s not slander if it’s true. Malfoy _is_ gay. He likes blokes, and don’t even try to tell me he hasn’t checked any out. I don’t see why you care so much unless, what, you have a ‘man-crush’ on him or something? I saw you two were pretty much joined at the hip at the party.”

Harry just stood there, frozen to the spot, fury bubbling up inside him. His hands were balled into fists and he felt his face heating up. He couldn’t- he couldn’t do this. “Fuck off,” he snarled as he whipped around and stormed out of the room.

He needed air. He barreled out the back door and into the chilly night, taking a long walk across the grounds. He had to clear his head and relax. _Fucking hell_.

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

The Weasley’s and Hermione all looked up at the sound of the back door slamming shut. The latter stood and made her way to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder to the others that she’d check on it. When she walked in, she noted Ron’s affronted expression and Harry’s absence, and immediately guessed at what had happened. Even so, she wanted to hear it from Ron.

“Well?” she asked. “What was that?”

The red-head sighed and shrugged as he began to send clean dishes soaring to their places on the shelf. “Harry’s stormed off. Dunno what I’ve said to work him up so much…”

She raised an eyebrow. “Tell me what you said.”

“Well, we were talking about Malfoy being one of the gay blokes, and how he would probably check everyone out in the Quidditch locker room. Well, I suppose I was the one who said that. Harry actually defended him for some reason, so I joked about him having a ‘man-crush’ on Malfoy. That’s when he got really upset and left. The prat can’t take a joke-”

“Ron! Honestly, are you really that thick?” She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled loudly. “Finish up in here and then you and I need to have a talk,” and with that she turned on her heel and left the kitchen in exasperation.

Ron just stood there, speechless.

*             *             *             *             *

Once her oblivious boyfriend emerged from the kitchen, Hermione excused them and led him up to her borrowed room. As soon as the door was shut behind them, she rounded on him. “You accused Harry of having a crush on Malfoy?”

His eyes widened slightly before he hurriedly responded. “No! Not a real crush, a ‘ _man_ -crush.’ There’s a difference. A ‘man-crush’ isn’t a real crush, it’s when a straight bloke admires or- or, I dunno, is fond of another bloke. But it’s completely platonic. Both blokes involved are _straight_.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a moment to collect herself. “Ronald. I’m going to tell you something, but you _have_ to promise you won’t tell Harry that I told you. And you can’t tell anyone else, either. It’s not my secret to tell, but I think you need to know.”

“Alright…” he answered suspiciously.

“This is serious. You have to promise me. Can I trust you?”

Ron sobered at the sincere look in his girlfriend’s eyes. “Of course, Hermione. I promise you, I won’t say a word to anyone.”

“Good.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Now the hard part. “What I’m about to tell you might be hard for you to process, so just- try to keep an open mind…” She continued after Ron gave a nod of understanding. “Well… Harry likely got upset and stormed off because… well… Ron, Harry is gay. And he _does_ have a crush- a real crush- on Malfoy.” She held her breath as she waited for the explosion.

Ron listened to her explanation with furrowed brows, and when she finished, he just stared at her in disbelief. “You’re having me on…  Harry’s not gay.”

“He is. He told me himself. He’s the other gay bloke at school; he’s the one who responded to the original ‘gay-confession’ post on The Wall. And he is ‘Phoenix,’ the one who’s been corresponding with Malfoy. He admitted to me just today how strong his feelings for Malfoy are. I’m sorry, Ron, but it’s true.”

By the end of his girlfriend’s speech, Ron’s mouth was gaping open as he attempted to comprehend what she was telling him. “He… he’s… he’s gay. Harry’s… _gay_? But… but he likes Ginny, they’re going to get back together! He can’t be- be into _blokes_. I think I’d know if my best mate was gay!”

Hermione sighed and took both of Ron’s hands in her own.  She waited until his breathing had evened out and then continued in a calm voice. “Harry is gay, and he likes Malfoy. He _told_ me. He’s been avoiding Ginny all year because he _doesn’t_ want to get back together with her and he just doesn’t know how to tell her. And you didn’t know about any of this because Harry just realized it himself. He’s still coming to terms with it, which is why he didn’t tell you. I only know because I figured it out and he confirmed it when I asked him.”

The red-head tightened his grip on her hands slightly as he glanced around the room. He was taking slow, deep breaths and was clearly trying to wrap is head around these developments.

Several minutes went by and still no change. Hermione was getting anxious. “So? Are you alright?” she tentatively asked.

His eyes locked onto hers, but there were another few moments before he spoke. Slowly, he nodded his head. “Just a bit shocked. I… blimey. I never would’ve guessed. Harry’s gay. My best mate... is gay. What am I supposed to do now?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes and gently pulled her hands out of Ron’s. “Just what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I can’t bloody share a room with him now, can I?”

“ _What!?_ And why not? You think he’s going to take advantage of you? Invade your privacy and- and watch you change or something? _Honestly_ , are you twelve? Harry wouldn’t do that because you’re his best friend! He respects you and would never do that to you. And in case you’ve forgotten, he has feelings for someone else. I know for a fact that he sees you as a brother, you egotistical imbecile.”

Ron was downright cowering. He was backed up against the wall and attempting to make himself as small as he could possibly be. When Hermione had finished yelling, he took a moment to find his voice. “Well, when you put it like that-”

“There’s no other way to put it! Now, are you going to support him and keep this between us until he’s ready to tell you himself, or do I have to _obliviate_ you?”

“No, no, I will, I just, um… I just have one question… how am I supposed to support him if I can’t tell him that I know?”

Hermione incredulously looked at him while her mouth opened and closed, trying to form words that shouldn’t need to be spoken. “Ronald. I know you aren’t _that_ thick. Please tell me I’m not actually dating a troll.”

“Alright, alright. I can still be supportive without letting on that I know. I suppose I’ve been making a lot of comments about the whole Malfoy being gay thing. I could be more understanding of that.”

The bushy-haired girl sighed in relief. “Yes. Good. And for Merlin’s sake, do _not_ start acting weird around him when you’re changing. He’s not interested.”

“Right. Got it.”

She sure hoped he did.

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

By the time Harry came back inside, it had been over an hour since he had stormed out of the kitchen. He was cold and his muscles ached from clenching them so much. He went straight up to his and Ron’s room to change into his warm pyjamas, hoping that the red-head was already asleep. No such luck.

He pushed the door open slowly and peeked inside, only to find Ron sitting sideways in his chair and facing the door. Their eyes met, and Harry entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He looked back at his roommate awkwardly, not really sure what to expect. “Er… sorry I left like that. I…” he trailed off having no idea how to explain himself.

“It’s fine,” Ron said. “I did accuse you of having a ‘man-crush’ on Malfoy, after all. If you had said that to me, I would’ve run for it, too.” A small smile played at his lips as he gauged Harry’s reaction.

Harry knew Ron was just trying to lighten the mood, so he forced a smile back. “Right. Well, I’ve calmed down, so… Sorry again.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Right,” Harry said as he crossed the room to his trunk. Ron was already dressed for bed, so Harry pulled out his pyjamas and changed. When he finished, he looked over to find Ron submerged in _Quidditch through the Ages_. He sat down on his bed and pulled the blankets up over him, trying to warm up.

“So, Harry. Are you going to use this holiday to talk to my sister at all?” Ron asked, eyes still glued to the magazine.

“Oh. Er… I… Look, Ron… I suppose I should’ve told you sooner… I just- I don’t really, um, _feel_ that way about her anymore… She’s more like a sister? I guess? I tried to tell her, but she didn’t exactly listen…”

“Really? Interesting. I always thought you two would end up together,” he said, finally looking up at the brunette.

Harry just shrugged awkwardly.

“So, is there anyone else that you’re interested in then?”

Harry quickly looked away, his cheeks turning a very obvious shade of pink. _Fuck_. “Er… no, I… no,” he stuttered.

“Liar,” Ron smirked.

Harry looked back at his friend, trying desperately to think of- well, anything. “I… I-”

“What, you won’t tell your best mate?”

The brunette knew that Ron was just teasing, but he also knew that he would expect him to answer. “…It’s not a big deal, it’s just, um, it’s really new. I don’t plan on acting on it or anything. Just leave it.” He looked away nervously.

Ron paused a moment, studying Harry. Finally, he said, “Sure, mate. You’ll let me know if things get more serious?”

Harry smiled. “Of course.”

*             *             *             *             *

The rest of the holiday break was uneventful, but nice. Hermione stopped cornering Harry to discuss _things_ , Ron refrained from making comments about Malfoy, and Ginny left him alone. Christmas day was a bit tense, it being the first since Fred… but otherwise it was the same as always.

New Year’s was the hardest Harry had ever partied, and unlike the day after the party in the Room of Requirement, the next morning there was no hangover potion. He wasted that entire day in bed. Ron was smart enough not to mention that Harry had confessed his love for Malfoy the night before.

*             *             *             *             *

It was the last day of the holiday break, and Harry was getting nervous. He had been pushing what happened with Draco out of his mind. He just wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. He felt guilty about not writing to him, but honestly, what was he supposed to say? What would Draco want to hear? _Sorry you’ve been outed?_  No. He wouldn’t want pity. _Merlin, what happened was horrible, let me tell you all the horrendous things everyone’s been saying about you._ Because that would be comforting. Should he just respond to the letter that was posted as if nothing happened? No, that would be insensitive.

He was packing his things into his trunk as he contemplated all of this. He tried to think about what he, Harry, would want to hear if he had been the one outed. In truth, he wouldn’t want to hear anything. He would want everything to stay as normal as possible. Maybe he should just wait to see if Draco would make the first move. The blonde certainly wasn’t shy about telling people what he wanted. That seemed to be the safest option.

He sighed. He knew things couldn’t possibly stay the same now. He was quite terrified of what would happen, and he did not want to be dragged into it.

That night, he slept very uneasily, a sense of dread permeating his dreams.


	9. Difficult Choices

The first day back from the holiday was a difficult one. Harry was pleased to see that Draco’s letter had been taken down from The Wall, but that was about the only good thing that happened that day.

At breakfast, he had to endure more gossiping from his housemates about Draco. They were saying how they weren’t all that surprised that he’s gay, considering how long he must spend doing his hair every morning. They were laughing now. Laughing at how the ‘mean, tough Slytherin prince’ was a fairy. Harry wanted to punch them all in the face. At least Ron wasn’t joining in; he and Hermione were having a private, hushed conversation. The brunette noted that Draco was absent from the Great Hall. That was probably a good thing, since nearly all of the buzz filling up the Hall was about him.

Harry sighed. He couldn’t eat. He got to his feet and quietly made his leave, not bothering to say ‘bye’ to any of his housemates.

*             *             *             *             *

Lunch was much, much worse. Draco was seated at the Slytherin table between Zabini and Bulstrode, his head down as he picked at his food. People were openly mocking him and calling him names, while others spoke loudly to each other about how they couldn’t believe Draco was gay and writing queer letters to some other fruit.

Draco just ignored them, acting as if he couldn’t even hear it. Harry was actually quite impressed. The blonde kept his mask firmly in place for a good ten minutes… until the ‘performance’ started.

A Ravenclaw- a seventh year maybe?- had transfigured his hair so that it was white-blonde, and some other Ravenclaw Harry didn’t recognize was dressed in an absurd phoenix costume. They burst into the Hall and strode over to the Slytherin table directly in front of Draco and jumped up onto the table.

Draco straightened, startled, and looked up at them, his mask slowly slipping to reveal his horror.

The Ravenclaw dressed as Draco cast _Sonorous_ on himself, and then began to recite the fantasy part of Draco’s letter.

“After I had you shoved against the wall,” he said as he pretended to push the bloke in the phoenix costume up against an invisible wall, “I would grind my hips into yours until there could be no question as to your excitement. (He humped the air about a foot away from the dressed up phoenix.) I’d be very interested to see just how well-endowed you are.”

The Hall burst into laughter. Draco was clearly in shock as he stared at the display, his face crimson and his mouth gaping. Over at the Head table, McGonagall looked outraged.

The idiot dressed as Draco continued. “I would not, however, allow you to touch my perfect hair. Not unless you’ve earned it. (He paused for more laughter.) I’d bind your wrists up above your head (he grabbed the phoenix bloke’s hands and threw them up into the air) and yes, I’d snog you senseless. I’d ravish your mouth until you were panting for breath.” He pretended to snog the phoenix bloke, who was making pathetic and overly dramatic moaning sounds.

Draco had had enough. He stood up and drew his wand, pointing it at the bloke dressed as him. “Think you’re funny, do you? Is there something you’d like to say to my face?” His voice dripped with venom, but Harry could see his wand hand shaking even from that distance.

Before the two ‘performers’ could reply, McGonagall had appeared behind them. She levitated the two off of the table to the ground directly in front of her as she began her scathing lecture. “How _dare_ you!” The entire Hall went silent and Draco shyly took his seat. “This school is about teaching children to use and control their magic, yes, but more importantly it is about unity, tolerance, and overcoming our obstacles. Each student in this school deserves the same level of respect and tolerance. I am deeply disappointed in you two. Twenty points from Ravenclaw. Each. And you will serve detention for the next month. If I find you two showing any disrespect to Mr. Malfoy again, I will expel you like I did Mr. McLaggen. Do I make myself clear?”

Both boys nodded, neither of them saying a word.

“Good. Get out of my sight.”

The boys scrambled as fast as they could out of the Great Hall as McGonagall calmly made her way back up to the Head table. Draco just sat there, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

Harry had never been more shocked or appalled. He released the death grip he had on his chair and tore his eyes away from the Slytherin table. He forced himself to breathe, but there was no way he could eat anymore.

*             *             *             *             *

Draco attended dinner, much to Harry’s surprise. The blonde was flanked by his two friends again, glaring at anyone who looked at him wrong. At least he was keeping his head up.

McGonagall’s threat from lunch seemed to have an effect on the student body. The buzz was much quieter, and no one was outwardly mocking Draco now. Not even Harry’s housemates. The brunette was able to eat a full meal for once. Maybe things were finally settling down.

*             *             *             *             *

After dinner, Harry forced himself to play a few games of exploding snap with his housemates. Once it was socially acceptable, he excused himself and headed upstairs to his dorm. It was exhausting trying to keep up the charade of finding Draco’s homosexuality a form of entertainment.

Internally rolling his eyes, he strode over to his desk to get a magazine when he stopped short. There was an owl perched on it, a scroll tied to its leg.

Harry had to take a few deep breaths before untying the scroll. He nervously shook out his hands before attempting the task. Once the letter was clutched tightly in his hand, the owl hooted quietly and then took off through the cracked window.

The brunette walked over to his bed and sat heavily, unsure as to whether he actually wanted to read the letter or not. After a few moments, he pushed his fringe out of his eyes and unrolled the scroll.

 

_Phoenix,_

_I couldn’t help noticing your silence. I know you’re aware of what happened, the whole bloody school is. Why haven’t you written? I could have used some support. I still could. I didn’t want to come out either, but I’ve been outed and tormented and- where were you? If you really feel that strongly for me, then you need to show me. Be here for me. I’m going to admit something to you that I haven’t admitted to my closest friends: I can’t do this. Not alone. Today was brutal, I need someone to share this burden with. I need you. Tell me your identity. You owe me that much; you’re the one that bloody started this correspondence in the first place. If not for these letter exchanges, I’d still be securely in the closet. You need to tell me. Be here and support me. _

_Draco_

 

Harry was speechless. He tried to read it again, but he couldn’t quite focus on the words. It took him longer than it should’ve to realize that this was due to how badly his hands were shaking. He swallowed hard and shoved the letter under his pillow. He had to think.

He gathered his things and made his way to the loo. He glanced in the mirror on his way by and did a double-take. Recently, he had looked much better than he did at the start of the term, but now… Now he looked just as haunted as he did then. His face was sickly pale and he had dark circles under his eyes. He tore his gaze away and got into the shower, trying to ease his tense muscles under the scorching water.

*             *             *             *             *

It was getting late. Harry couldn’t just keep sitting there in indecision, he had to write something. He looked down at the blank parchment for the hundredth time and forced the tip of his quill to the sodding thing.

 

_My Draco,_

_Of course I know what happened and I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine how you must feel. I didn’t write because… well, I just didn’t think anything I could’ve said would help. I was waiting to hear from you, to hear what you needed. I guess now I know._

_This isn’t what you want to hear, but I have no other answer. I can’t tell you who I am. I refuse to be collateral damage. You know I don’t want to come out, and you of all people should understand, especially given the circumstances. I also don’t want you to know who I am because I’m not convinced you’ll be receptive. I’ve put too much on the line, I’ve told you how… strongly I feel about you… I can’t do it. I truly am sorry._

_I’m still here for you, you know I am. I’m here to support you any other way that I can… as Phoenix. Please understand._

_Love,_

_Your Phoenix_

 

The brunette knew this was going to be bad. He mentally prepared for the backlash he would get after this as he made his way up to the owlery. He used his invisibility cloak just in case Draco was waiting to ambush him- he wouldn’t put it past the blonde.

When he arrived, he sighed and looked out into the night. After a full minute’s hesitation, he finally tied his response to the leg of the impatient owl and sent it off. He knew Draco would be upset, but he hoped that the blonde would also be reasonable.

Time would tell.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry awoke abruptly the next morning to the sound of harsh pecking on the outside of his window. He groaned and shoved his glasses on as he peered in the direction of the offending noise. An owl was pecking at the window.

An eagle owl.

 _Draco’s_ owl.

Harry jumped out of bed and crossed the room to the window in a matter of seconds. He opened the window and fumbled with the ribbon that attached a scroll to the owl’s leg, his heart pounding all the while. Once it was free, the magnificent bird took flight out the open window as Harry’s eyes flitted around the room to each of his sleeping dorm mates. _Thank Merlin_.

He quietly got back in bed and closed his curtains. After a quick _Lumos_ , he unrolled the scroll and held his breath as he braced himself for Draco’s wrath.

 

_‘My’ Phoenix,_

_It’s funny how you call me ‘your’ Draco, and say that you’re mine when in fact you refuse to actually make that jump. I’m beginning to believe that you’re just full of shit. If your way of being here for me is simply to carry on as we have been, then our ‘relationship’ has run its course. I do not accept the fact that you’re too insecure to disclose you identity as a valid excuse to force me to face this alone. As such, I leave you with two options:_

_The first option is to own up and confess to me who you are. I promise you that I’ll be receptive no matter what. I will not reject you. I’ve already fallen for you and I really want this to continue. I’m not ready to give you up, but I need more. Show me how much you care about me and that you’re serious about me, as I am about you. You’ve been signing your letters ‘Love, Phoenix,’ which means that your feelings run deeper than just some crush, does it not? What ever happened to being in this together? Those were your words. Have you forgotten?_

_The second option is to continue being a stubborn coward and refuse. If this is what you choose, then this is over. I will not correspond with you any longer, and I will not give you a chance should you ever decide to disclose your identity to me in the future. This will be completely over._

_Think hard before you decide. I implore you to act like a Gryffindor, even though you clearly aren’t one, and ask yourself if I’m worth it._

_Hopefully ‘Yours,’_

_Draco_

 

Was- was this an ultimatum? Draco was giving him an _ultimatum_? _Ruin your life or we’re done?_ Harry balled the letter up in his fist as a surge of anger shot up his spine. He threw on his invisibility cloak and tore through the halls up to the owlery, the letter still a crumpled mess in his hand.

When he arrived, he was out of breath and fuming. He inhaled the chilly morning air several times and swallowed down the outburst that was on the tip of his tongue. Glancing around, he was pleased to find that Draco’s owl was perched several feet away, along with the majority of the school’s owls. _Perfect._

He addressed all owls present, ensuring to reiterate the message to Draco’s owl specifically, that he no longer went by the name “Phoenix.’ He was only Harry Potter. If anyone tried to send a letter to Phoenix, then the owls were not to deliver it. There was no Phoenix.

Satisfied that they understood, the brunette made his way back to Gryffindor tower to get ready for the day. He was not going to allow Draco to force him out of the closet as well, no matter the threat.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry had been reflecting on what he had done all day. It was now dinnertime, and he was seriously starting to regret his rash decision. He had essentially just broken off anything he may have had with the blonde. Had he done the right thing? Draco was obviously out of line for demanding that he either comes out and confesses his feelings or else it’s over. That was low. Harry had made his decision- he wouldn’t give in to a demand like that. Serves Draco right for being such a prick.

At the same time though… Draco was enduring what would be Harry’s worst nightmare. It made sense that he’d lash out and be defensive- that’s just how he was. Was Harry overreacting? He just didn’t know.

He groaned and continued to pulverize his poor potato with his fork. Now all he had to do was wait for Draco to figure out what he’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t be mad! **Runs away** Things are pretty fucked right now, but bare with me!


	10. The Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a long-ish chapter. It's a little angsty... *Runs and hides* It does get resolved in one way or another, I promise!

It had been four days since Harry’s trip to the owlery in which he informed the owls that he no longer went by Phoenix. He glanced down at the Marauder’s Map for probably the twelfth time that hour. He had gotten in the habit of keeping it with him at all times these days to check if Draco had gone to the owlery. So far, he had not.

Harry sighed. He couldn’t focus on his essay. He was feeling horribly guilty about his reaction to Draco’s ultimatum, and had come extremely close- multiple times- to telling the owls to forget what he said about him not being Phoenix. He should have at least _replied_ to Draco… maybe they could’ve worked something else out. He felt like a complete arse. A part of him hoped that Draco would guess that it’s him and confront him…

The brunette shivered as he imagined how _that_ would play out. _No_. It would never work, Draco would never want him like that. There was too much history.

With an aching feeling in his chest and a tight throat, he attempted to write more of his essay.

*             *             *             *             *

Later that night right before turning in to bed, Harry gasped as he watched the little dot labeled ‘Draco’ glide across the page of the Marauder’s Map, straight to the owlery. Harry bolted into the loo as slowly as he could so as not to draw attention from his housemates and locked himself in a stall, where he proceeded to completely fall apart.

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

It had been four days since he sent his demand, and Draco was getting impatient. He realized that he had presented Phoenix with a very difficult decision, but honestly, it shouldn’t be _that_ difficult if he truly felt the way he said he did.

Draco decided to write again. He knew that he had probably come off much too fierce for _scared, insecure_ Phoenix, and he was tired of waiting. He refused to give in- the choices were still the same- but maybe he could present them in a slightly less intimidating way.

 

_Phoenix,_

_I hope your silence means that you are giving this decision a lot of thought. I apologize if I was a bit belligerent about the way in which I presented the choices. I realize that I may have insulted you, and I’m sorry. I’d like to try again._

_I want to be with you. I have fallen for you hard- and if you need me to spell that out for you, that means that I have an erumpent sized crush on you- and I really couldn’t give two shits about who you are. I will continue to feel this way no matter what. Like I said, I will not reject you._

_That being said, I need your support. I’m going through something extremely difficult, as you know, and I need you. I have two close friends (who are essentially useless regarding this whole thing), but otherwise I’m quite alone. Tell me who you are._

_If you continue to refuse to tell me, then I’m sorry, but I have to end this. If you won’t tell me, then you don’t actually care about me the way you claim to, and I have too much self-respect to allow myself to be used as entertainment for you._

_Am I worth it to you, or not? That’s the real question I’d like you to consider._

_Still hoping to be yours,_

_Draco_

 

The blonde nervously tapped his fingers on the desk as he reread his letter. Disclosing his feelings so openly like that was so far out of his comfort zone… It had to be done though. He couldn’t lose Phoenix. Sighing, he rolled up the letter and made his way up to the owlery.

When he arrived, he spotted an almost fluffy-looking tawny owl. Draco smiled. The bird was quite cute… maybe it would help soften Phoenix up a bit. He tied his letter to its leg as he said, “Deliver this to Phoenix, and wait for a reply.”

He was about to turn to leave when he noticed the owl just perched there, unmoving. He nudged it towards the open window, but it refused to budge. Frowning, he picked the little bird up and gently tossed it out the window. To his utter bewilderment, the owl fluttered in place for a moment, and then came back into the room and perched on the same spot.

“Did you not understand me? I said, deliver this to Phoenix.” He stared as the owl continued to perch there. After a few moments, it stuck its leg with the scroll tied to it back out to Draco.

Confused, Draco untied it and took the scroll back. Maybe he had chosen the one owl not privy to who Phoenix was. He strode across the room and tied it to a different owl, giving it the same directions. To his astonishment, this owl wouldn’t move either.

 _Alright_ … He took his letter over to his own eagle owl and tied it to his leg. There was no way his own owl would disobey him. “Bring this to Phoenix, and wait for a reply. I’ll give you a treat when you return.” He stroked his owl’s feathers and then stepped back, waiting for it to take flight.

Any moment, he would soar off into the night.

Any time now.

The beautiful bird ruffled its feathers momentarily… and then stuck his leg back out to Draco.

And suddenly, Draco understood.

Phoenix had already decided, and he had chosen wrong.

His breath caught in his throat as he felt his stomach drop and his remaining innards somersault. He slid down the wall and sat, his heart beating furiously as his eyes prickled.  He hugged his knees to his chest and tried to focus on his breathing.

_Deep breath in, deep breath out._

He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that. All he knew was that he was not going to accept this. Phoenix was going to realize his mistake and atone for it. No one refuses Draco like that. He tried the nice way- the way in which Phoenix could have kept his secret and only told Draco- and now it was time for the not-so-nice, public way.

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

Harry trudged into the Great Hall with Ron for breakfast, his eyes sore and his limbs heavy from lack of sleep. They found Hermione and the rest of their year mates and sat, Harry a bit clumsily. His head was slowly starting to pound due to all the bloody noise in the hall this morning.

 _Honestly,_ why was everyone so bloody _perky_ this early? He groaned as he poured himself a strong cup of tea. To his left, he heard someone quietly clear their throat. He glanced over and met Hermione’s worried gaze, and was instantly more awake as alarm bells started to go off in his head.

“Harry… you might be interested in the latest post on The Wall. I would wait until after you’ve eaten though… You may lose your appetite.” She spoke quietly and calmly, but the warning was clear.

_Oh god._

He finally noticed the massive group of people around The Wall, and the fact that _everyone_ seemed to be chatting and gossiping animatedly. He also noticed that everyone was either openly staring or stealing frequent glances at Draco.

 _Fuck_. What did he do?

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat as the color drained from his face. He didn’t think he was equipped to deal with whatever Draco posted right then.

Hermione nudged his foot with hers from under the table and pinned him with a stern look. “You have to eat. It’ll settle your stomach.” She didn’t wait for a reply as she subtly spooned a helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate.

His stomach was roiling, but he took her advice and forced himself to eat a few bites. He was actually able to force them down… until Dean ran over.

“Guys! Malfoy posted, admitting to everything! His post is all… _emotional_ and pleading- he’s actually begging this ‘Phoenix’ bloke to meet him! It’s pretty pathetic,” he laughed.

“Wait- Malfoy? _Begging?_ Are you sure he wrote it?” asked Ron skeptically.

Dean smirked, as if he had been expecting that question. “He’s been confirming it all morning. Take a look.”

With that, their whole end of the Gryffindor table turned to look at the Slytherin who was, in fact, nodding his head and speaking calmly to a group of Hufflepuffs, a slight flush to his cheeks. The group immediately burst into squeals and ‘whoops’ of delight. It would appear that Draco _was_ confirming it.

The eighth year Gryffindors started to engage in their own gossiping and speculations then, and Harry just couldn’t take it. He poured himself a glass of water and downed it in an attempt to get rid of the taste of ash in his mouth, and then hesitantly rose from the table.

This was it. Read the post, or flee. He stalled a few more moments by slowly picking up his bag and meticulously adjusting it onto his shoulder. Meanwhile, he was trying to calm his breathing and hide his shaking hands.

He had to know. He took his first step away from the table, but then Ron stopped him.

“Harry, mate, are you going over to The Wall to have a look? I’ll go with you.”

 _Arrrgghhhhh. Bloody fucking Merlin’s balls._ It took all of Harry’s willpower not to start ripping out his own hair. “Sure,” he forced out.

Grudgingly, Harry walked with Ron over to The Wall. Together, they pushed their way through the crowd until they were close enough to read the exhilarating post.

 

_My fellow classmates,_

_Many, if not all of you have heard the rumor that I am gay, and that I am corresponding with another gay bloke who remains anonymous. This information was posted without my consent, and it was done in a manner that I would not have chosen. The way in which this was revealed obviously lacked my finesse and charm, but what’s done is done. I confess that this rumor is true. I’m gay._

_Things have been difficult for me since I’ve been outed, despite the cessation of the initial mockery. Now I am left on the outskirts while everyone else shares an inside joke at my expense. Being discreet about it doesn’t make it any less painful._

_I do have two very understanding and supportive friends who have helped me through the worst of this experience. They continue to stand by me, which I’m grateful for. I also have McGonagall, who will expel any prick who takes it too far. Yes, I am grateful. But this is hardly a complete inner circle._

_I am now going to address my anonymous correspondent, Phoenix. If anyone does not wish to be bombarded with emotional declarations and pleas, I suggest you refrain from reading past this point._

_Phoenix,_

_I desperately want to be with you. I have fallen for you hard. If you need me to spell that out for you, that means that I have an erumpent sized crush on you… maybe more. I think it’s possible that I could be in love with you.  I really couldn’t give two shits about who you are. I will continue to feel this way no matter what._

_That being said, I need your support. I have friends, yes, but what I really need is someone to help me through this difficult time; someone to share the burden with; someone who understands._

_Not only do I need you, but I would love to be able to be with someone romantically. I got a second chance at life, I’m getting a good education, and I have a few good friends. The missing piece is a partner to share my life with. I can’t imagine that person being anyone but you._

_Please, Phoenix. Do me the honor of revealing your identity to me, so that we can be together. I will be at the Three Broomsticks at 2:00 this Saturday. If you truly feel the same way about me, as you have claimed, join me. I’ll be waiting for you._

_Love,_

_Draco_

 

Harry read the entire thing twice, and the part where Draco addresses Phoenix four times. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep or the panic setting in that was causing his short-term memory loss, but he found himself having to read the last two lines over and over and over again. He felt like he was going to collapse at any moment. His legs were ready to buckle, his heart was pounding so loudly it must have been audible, and he was beginning to hyperventilate.

Wait- he really was hyperventilating. Ron grabbed his forearm firmly and steered him out of the Great Hall as nonchalantly as he could. Once outside, he turned to Harry with a concerned look. “You alright? Breathe slow, like this,” he said as he started to model breathing slowly.

Harry copied his pace as best he could until he finally started to calm down. After a few minutes he felt better, just completely humiliated. He blushed fiercely and averted his eyes. He must have made it _so_ obvious. What was Ron going to say? _Fuck_.

“So… are you going to join him on Saturday?”

_Yup. Ron knew. Fuck Fuck Fuck._

The scarlet-faced brunette looked away and cringed, but he knew there was no denying it. He shrugged as he choked out, “Dunno.”

“Well. There’s time to think on it. So um… you admit it? That you’re ‘Phoenix?’”

“Shhh!” Harry hissed as he frantically looked up and down the hall. They were alone. _Thank Merlin._ He slowly looked up at Ron, every muscle in his body tensed. He opened his mouth and closed it several times, at a total loss. After a shaky breath, he answered. “I… I don’t want to-to keep anything from you, I just… I… can we go somewhere more private?”

“‘Course,” Ron said as he nodded towards the other end of the hall where there were several unused classrooms.

The pair hastily strode into the furthest classroom from the Great Hall, immediately closing the door behind them. Harry kept his head down as Ron turned to face him.

“So?” the red-head asked.

Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably, his stomach churning with what felt like acidic pixies. He cleared his throat roughly and ran a shaky hand through his hair before squeezing his eyes shut and sighing in resignation. “I’m Phoenix,” he whispered.

Silence.

Harry opened his glistening eyes and held his breath as he forced himself to look at his best friend.

Ron… didn’t look surprised. He was just watching the brunette with a calm, almost sympathetic look on his face. “So you’re gay. And you fancy Malfoy.” He crossed his arms over his chest, but he wasn’t angry- he was simply waiting for the full story.

Without his permission, Harry’s eyes began to water in earnest and his lip trembled. He bit it hard to try to prevent the floodgate from opening, but it was no use. With a sharp intake of breath, the tears fell and he turned away, leaning against the wall for support.

“Hey, mate, cut it out, alright? It’s fine. Come on,” Ron soothed as he closed the gap and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “I sort of… already knew, anyhow.”

With that, Harry spun around, his streaming eyes piercing Ron’s with a horrified, questioning gaze. “What d-do you mean, you Kn-knew?” he sobbed.

Ron looked away awkwardly. “Well, New Year’s eve, you got pretty pissed. You sort of… confessed to being in love with Malfoy… I was waiting for you to tell me while sober.”

Harry couldn’t speak. Ron had known for- for _weeks_! He covered his face in mortification and tried to turn away, but Ron stopped him. The red-head pulled him into a fierce hug, gripping so tightly that Harry wouldn’t have been able to get out of it even if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. The brunette buried his face in his friend’s shoulder and hugged back as he worked on getting a hold of himself. Several minutes later the tears finally stopped. He slowly pulled out of Ron’s embrace and wiped his eyes.

“So you know.” Harry sniffled and then forced his eyes up. “What, um… what now?”

Ron looked confused as he asked, “What do you mean? About Malfoy, or…?”

Harry shook his head and wiped his eyes again. “No, about us. Your best friend is… gay. What are you going to do about that?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not going to do anything, you twit. You’re going to continue being my best friend. Only now, I might spare you some details about me and ‘Mione, and I’ll prepare myself for when you tell me about your exploits with Malfoy,” he answered with a smirk.

Harry felt some tension leave his aching muscles at that, but he still had to ask. “So… so you’re OK with it? It doesn’t bother you?”

Ron paused as he chose his next words. “At first I was a bit shocked. I wouldn’t have guessed that you of all people would be… Ya know. I admit, I was a bit… er… uncertain- about sharing a room with you. I regret that now, I know it was stupid. You wouldn’t take advantage or- or check me out or anything. I know you only think of me as a friend. Nothing to worry about. Again, it was stupid. I’m completely fine with it. It’s who you are.”

Harry didn’t know if he should be offended or relieved. He settled on the latter and smiled at his friend. “Good. And just so we’re clear- you are not my type.”

Both boys laughed, and Harry felt lighter than he had in quite some time. He was glad that Ron now knew, and that he now had both of his best friends’ support.

Now all Harry had to worry about was Draco’s public request. He knew the Slytherin played dirty. He really only had himself to blame for forcing the blonde’s hand. He never should have shut him out and relinquished his alias of ‘Phoenix.’ What an _idiot_ he was.

*             *             *             *             *

It was Thursday; just two days before the ‘big Saturday reveal’ that everyone wouldn’t stop talking about. Harry refused to discuss it with Ron or Hermione. He hadn’t made a decision yet, and any time he thought about it for more than thirty seconds, he wanted to either throw up or blink out of existence. No. He needed something else.

When classes let out for lunch, Harry first made a trip up to the owlery. He scribbled a quick note to his Healer requesting a meeting and sent it off with a school owl. He just hoped she had an opening before Saturday.

*             *             *             *             *

Friday afternoon found Harry in his usual meeting room with his Healer, where he was once again thanking her for meeting him on such short notice.

“It’s really no problem at all. I always leave a few spots open weekday evenings just in case any of my Hogwarts clients need a last-minute session. Now what’s this about?”

He told her everything. He told her how some prick intercepted one of his crush’s letters and outed him, how said crush gave him an ultimatum and he chose to end the correspondence, how his crush is now retaliating by asking him to publicly declare himself on Saturday and how heartfelt the request was, how his other best friend now knows he’s gay… Everything. By the end, he was a trembling, disheveled mess.

Once again, his Healer didn’t look surprised. When he called her on this, he didn’t exactly like her response.

“Well, I do meet with several other students, you see. A few have mentioned these events to me already.”

His heart sank. Did that mean… “So, do you know who my… my crush is then?” he asked shyly.

The Healer sighed and gave him a little smile. “Yes. Draco Malfoy. Easy on the eyes if I do say so myself.”

Harry felt his face heat up and he looked away. At least he knew that he could truly trust her now- none of this was in the _Prophet_. He tried to ignore his embarrassment and pushed on with his biggest concerns. “I _do not_ want to come out publicly. I can’t handle that, it would be all over the papers, I’d be harassed by reporters, I’d get hate mail… It’s too much. And… and I know Draco doesn’t want it to be me. He kept saying in his letters and in his post that he didn’t care who I am, that he wouldn’t reject me… But he has no idea. We have such a history- a _bad_ history. I can’t risk it. I _know_ I can’t handle a public rejection like that. He’s being such an unreasonable-”

“I’m going to stop you there for a moment. Let’s focus on each point you just made. The first is that you don’t want to come out publicly and deal with the press. Does that mean that you never plan on coming out? In the future if you meet a man and fall in love, you’ll forever keep it a secret? What if he wants to get married? Don’t _you_ eventually want to get married, or at least settle down in a serious relationship?”

“I… yes, of course,” he answered a bit defensively. Before he could go on, she continued.

“Then at some point in your life, you’ll have to come out. And when you do, there will be press coverage. There are benefits to coming out sooner rather than later for someone in your position. The longer you wait, the more of a scandal it’ll be. They’ll spin it to look like you purposely tricked the Wizarding World and that you’re dishonest… I could go on. But the earlier you do it, the more genuine it’ll be. Right now, you’re a sympathetic teenager who is just now finding himself after a terrible war.”

Harry just stared at her. She had a point… one that he had never considered. “I… I suppose that’s true. I have enough experience with sleazy reporters to know that’s true.”

They sat in silence for several minutes as he processed this. Finally, he looked up again. “Alright, I… I suppose I’ll have to come out sooner than I anticipated. I… can do that. I have Ron and Hermione, and you.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “And the next point I made?”

The Healer smiled. “I’m glad you’re so receptive. I promise, Harry, I wouldn’t steer you wrong. Obviously it’s still your decision exactly when and how you choose to come out. So the next point you made was the fear of being rejected by Draco.”

Harry nodded and looked away, his face crimson once again.

“Do you remember what you told me about that party you went to? Who did you primarily socialize with?”

“Well, Draco, but-”

“Precisely,” she interrupted. “If I recall, you two really hit it off and had a great time together. You also told me that several days after the party, you ran into him again and agreed to be friends. So your chemistry at the party wasn’t just due to alcohol.”

Harry cringed. He hadn’t told her about the drinking.

The Healer’s lips twitched, but then she was speaking again. “You also said that he has completely fallen for ‘Phoenix,’ and has promised not to reject whoever it may be. I think he’ll be pleasantly surprised to find that it’s you.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” he asked in a small voice.

She sighed. “Well. If Draco rejects you after making such a public spectacle out of this, then he will be vilified and you’ll get all of the sympathy. You’ll be seen as brave and noble, and I guarantee the press will have nothing but kind words to say about you despite knowing that you’re gay. And honestly, don’t you want to see if anything comes from this? If you never tell him who you are, you’ll never know what you two could’ve had. He’ll be the one that got way, and you’ll always wonder ‘what if.’”

Harry bit his lip and looked down at his lap. He blinked rapidly to try to disperse the wetness in his eyes. For some reason, her words had made him a bit choked up. She gave him a minute to collect himself.

“I, um. I know that makes sense logically… it’s just- it’s a _really_ hard thing to do. I’m supposed to march into the Three Broomsticks, which will reveal to the entire school and Hogsmeade population that I’m gay, and- and then waltz up to Draco and tell him that I’m Phoenix and that I’m practically in love with him, and hope he doesn’t reject me… That’s _a lot_ for someone to face all at once. I don’t know if… if I have the- well, the _balls_ , for lack of a better word- to do that.”

He really didn’t like the soft, sympathetic look she was giving him. It was making him tear up again, damn it.

“I think what you have to do is weigh your options. Compare the pros and cons of each possible outcome, and decide based on that. Or ask yourself this: What would you rather live with? Standing Draco up and thus humiliating _him_ , losing any potential relationship you could have with him, and postponing coming out which may result in a scandal later on, _but_ you’ll be spared some anxiety and embarrassment on Saturday… Or, show up on Saturday and reveal that you’re Phoenix, which will result in a much nicer story in the paper, and Draco will either accept you and you’ll get to be with him, or he’ll reject you but you’ll have the support of your friends and of the public. It may be a difficult day for you, but at least you will have done the noble and courageous thing- like a true Gryffindor.”

Harry swallowed hard and wiped his eyes. He knew she was trying to sway his decision and she wasn’t exactly being neutral… but maybe that meant that she truly thought revealing himself on Saturday was the best option. She wouldn’t push him in that direction if she didn’t, right?

He thanked her for her insight at the end of the session and absently found his way back to Gryffindor tower. He wasn’t mentally equipped to think any more about this, so he collapsed on his bed and attempted to shut off his brain. He made it through the rest of the night on autopilot.


	11. The Three Broomsticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This is why I never promise to update on a specific schedule. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left insightful, heart-warming and enthusiastic comments! You're all amazing!

Saturday morning came much too quickly, and with much too little sleep for Harry’s liking. In fact, he looked so dreadful that Hermione marched him down to the hospital wing for a Calming Draught before breakfast. Pomfrey handed it to him, her mouth shut but her eyes questioning. Uncomfortable and averting his eyes, he took the vial without comment- he didn’t have the energy. He downed the potion and immediately felt his nerves relax. His heart was still fluttering a bit quicker than usual, but at least he was no longer shaking or feeling like he might be sick all over the floor.

The trio made their way to the Great Hall and took their usual seats. Harry kept his head down, but he wasn’t blind to the massive group of students surrounding the Slytherin table, exuberantly anticipating what was to come.

After about ten minutes of scowling at his untouched food, Harry was shaken from his gloomy thoughts.

“Harry, mate, what’s the matter?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Neville added. “You look like you haven’t slept at all.”

Harry stared at them for a moment, unable to put together a coherent thought.

After his mouth opened and closed twice, Ron jumped in. “Yeah, he didn’t sleep very well. Nightmares.”

Their dorm mates glanced between the two for a few moments, clearly not convinced. Dean watched as Harry shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet his gaze. And then he gasped. “Harry… you look like you’re dreading something… Like there’s something you have to do that you really don’t want to…” He stared at the brunette, eyes wide and holding his breath. He had figured it out.

Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet his, panic evident in the green irises. “I- what? What are you on about, I don’t-”

“Harry.” Dean was gaping at him. “You… you know what I’m on about. You’re ‘Phoenix,’ aren’t you?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face in misery. At least Dean had the decency to whisper his question.

Hermione placed a hand on the crimson Gryffindor’s arm as she pinned Dean and Neville with a hard stare. “And what would you say if he _was_?” she asked.

Harry groaned at his two dorm mates’ silence. He couldn’t deal with this, not when he was so worked up already. His stomach was in contorting knots that were tightening more and more with each passing moment. He was right about to stand up and flee when Neville finally spoke.

“I would say… why didn’t you tell us? We’re your friends, we share a room… Don’t you think we should’ve been told?”

Harry ducked his head lower.

“I agree,” Dean added. “Blimey, Harry, we deserve to know something like that. How long have you known?”

Harry was doing his best to choke back the impending sob that desperately wanted to escape. He couldn’t answer- he didn’t trust his voice.

Once again, Ron jumped in and spared him. “It hasn’t been long. He really only figured it out after You-Know-Who was defeated- so only this year. But he’s not interested in any of us, so you can quit your panicking.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. Because he’s interested in that prick, Malfoy,” Dean spat.

“Dean, stop. Look at him,” Neville said quietly.

Harry was shaking with the effort to hold back his tears, but to no avail. His hands were covering the majority of his red face, but droplets could be seen pooling on the table in front of him. His breathing was as quiet as he could make it, but still ragged. How in the Hell was he supposed to face Draco when he couldn’t even face his friends? A quiet sob finally escaped.

Dean sighed heavily. “Listen, I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh, but you have to understand… this is quite the shock. Man, I wish Seamus had been allowed to come back.  I could use his advice on this.”

Ignoring Dean, Neville chimed in. “Harry, don’t be upset. Yes, it is shocking, and I wish you told me, but it’s fine. Just- just calm down.”

Harry sniffled and tried to stop the stream of tears. He was sure that he was being incredibly obvious and knew he had to pull himself together, unless he wanted the whole school to figure it out prematurely. He gave a little nod of acknowledgement to his friends, and then focused on calming his breathing. A few deep breaths later, he was able to stop a fresh wave of tears and wiped his eyes. When his face was dry, he peaked up tentatively.

“It’s okay, I cast _Muffliato_ and a ‘Notice-me-not’ charm on us,” Hermione informed them.

Immediately, Harry sighed in relief and squeezed her hand in gratitude. She squeezed back.

The brunette shyly looked up at Dean and Neville with not a clue as to what to say. He closed his mouth and looked down at his lap, shame and embarrassment clouding his head. He forced himself to speak anyway. “I’m- I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was afraid of how you’d react, especially after hearing all of your comments about that post on The Wall… the gay confession one. I- I don’t _want_ to come out, all of this is being forced on me, and I can’t- I can’t do this…” he trailed off as he shut his eyes once more, willing himself not to cry again.

Neville sighed. “It’s alright, mate, but what do you mean you can’t do this? Are you saying that you’re not going to meet Malfoy? You have to.”

“I… what? Why do I have to?” Harry asked, a little surprised by the statement.

“Well, it’s just that this whole ‘meeting’ has been hyped up so much… _Everyone_ is talking about it. If you don’t show up, it’ll look really bad. If you don’t go through with this, no one can _ever_ find out that it’s you. It’d ruin you.”

Harry swallowed hard as Dean nodded in agreement. He looked to Ron and Hermione, who were suspiciously quiet and looking anywhere but at him.

 _Fuck_. “I have to do this, don’t I?” he asked, his stomach filling with bricks.

Finally, Hermione met his gaze. “It’s your choice, Harry. But… if you want anyone to have any respect for you, then yes. I think you have to go through with this.”

Harry covered his face again.

*             *             *             *             *

Lunch wasn’t any easier. A lot of students had already left for Hogsmeade, but that only meant that there were less people to conceal Harry’s obvious display of inner turmoil.

Hermione forced him to finish at least half of his food to ‘settle his stomach’ before she let him escape to his dorm. Twenty minutes later, Ron, Dean and Neville entered to find him curled up on his bed, his face buried in his pillow.

“Oi! Get up and get showered. You’ve got a date with a snarky Slytherin. You’ll want to look your best,” Dean teased.

Harry groaned and rolled over, putting his back to them. He felt his bed dip as someone sat down next to him. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper. “Please don’t tease me. I can’t handle it.”

There was silence for a solid minute. A firm hand squeezed his shoulder as its owner finally spoke. “Harry,” Ron started. “You don’t have to go through with this if you really don’t want to. Your secret is safe with us.”

“That’s right.”

“Yeah.”

Dean and Neville replied at the same time.

Harry was grateful for the reassurances- really, he was quite relieved that his dorm mates were alright with all of this- but he just couldn’t find comfort in them. This was all so surreal. His worst nightmare was coming true. He dejectedly shook his head. “No, I- I at least have to show up. I have to see how bad it’ll be either way. I’ll decide when it’s time.”

“Can I ask what’s so awful about all this? I mean, I know it must be a bit scary to come out, but… why are you so… terrified and devastated?” Neville asked.

“Because,” Harry sighed. “Draco is going to publicly reject me, it’s going to destroy me, and the press is going to have a field day. It’s too much to handle, I never wanted to publicly declare myself, but he’s forcing me to out of spite because I wouldn’t tell him my identity in my letters.”

“And why do you fancy him again?” Dean asked. He quickly put his hands up in surrender at the glare he received from the brunette. “Alright, sorry. But you’re saying that you think he’s going to reject you? Why would he after all this? I think he’ll at least give you a chance.”

“Yeah, even Malfoy wouldn’t reject you in public like that,” Neville added.

Harry sighed. He just couldn’t allow himself to hope. Regardless, he hauled himself up and headed to the showers.

*             *             *             *             *

Harry and his fellow Gryffindors arrived at the Three Broomsticks about ten minutes past 2:00. Even the entryway was packed as they pushed their way inside. They shoved through the thick crowds of people as they searched for Draco, which didn’t take long at all. The blonde was sitting in an otherwise empty booth in the back right corner of the pub, his friends lined up behind him offering what Harry assumed to be words of encouragement every now and then. Every single person in the pub was facing the blonde, paying very close attention to anyone who appeared to approach the booth.

Harry’s nerves came back full force- especially when Zabini whispered something to Draco, who then looked over and locked eyes with Harry. The brunette gave a little nod, which Draco returned, and then he nonchalantly (he hoped) looked away. It took all of his strength and willpower to control his facial features. The last thing he needed was to make it completely obvious.

A minute later, he chanced another glance at Draco’s booth. The blonde’s chin was high and proud, but his eyes were cast downward, his hands wringing together nervously in his lap. Harry’s heart clenched, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the snakes writhing in his stomach. His hands were shaking and he kept shifting his weight. This was _really_ hard. He was at a loss- he had no idea what to do. He would need to wait a bit… see how this would play out if he stalled. As of right now, he couldn’t see himself being able to reveal himself.

“Hey, maybe you should order a drink. You know, calm your nerves a bit,” Ron said quietly.

Harry thought about that. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded his consent.

Ron nudged Dean and the two turned to go order a round at the bar. Harry had a sudden thought and grabbed Ron’s arm. “Wait… who’s drinking?” he asked.

“Erm, you, me, Hermione, Dean, and Neville-”

“No, none for me,” Hermione cut in.”

“Alright then, four. I was just going to order a round of shots. Firewhisky okay?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, fine, um… order five. And make them doubles.”

“No, Harry, I really don’t want any,” Hermione said.

“I know, it’s not for you.” Harry turned back to Ron. “Just order five, yeah? Here,” he said as he dug in his pocket and retrieved a handful of coins to hand the red-head.

“Er, alright.” With that, Ron and Dean headed over to the bar.

Harry turned back to Hermione, a shy look on his face. She just studied him for a moment, but was clearly holding back her inquiries.

As he waited for his friends to return with the drinks, Harry scanned the crowds of people. There were several reporters with cameras at the ready. _Great._ He also noted that almost the entirety of Hogwarts was crammed into the pub, including a few professors. McGonagall was conversing with Flitwick and Sprout, and Slughorn was at the bar chatting with some locals. Then there was- Harry froze. His Healer. She was sitting at a table with another Healer and with Pomfrey, all of whom were shooting glances over at Draco periodically.

 _Oh fuck_. Was his Healer also treating Draco? Or was she there for Harry? Either way it was less than ideal. This was bad. No matter what he did, _everyone_ was going to hear about it, if not witness it firsthand. His breaths were coming in shallower.

Just then, Ron and Dean came back with their drinks. Harry took two of them from Ron as Dean passed one to Neville. They all counted to three- Harry only half-heartedly- and then they all downed their shots.

Harry took a minute to recover, and then another to work up the nerve to carry out his plan. He took a deep breath, wiped his free, sweaty hand on his robes, and then slowly walked towards Draco’s booth. He made sure to loop around the outside and approach from the back to where his friends stood. He did not want people to think that he was about to reveal himself. He wasn’t.

Once he was standing directly behind Draco and next to Zabini, Harry tapped the blonde on the shoulder. Draco looked back, saw who had tapped him and froze. Harry wasn’t about to let the blonde’s imagination run wild. He immediately held out the shot glass to him. “I thought maybe you’d like a drink, since this Phoenix bloke is making you wait.” Harry was quite pleased with himself- his voice was steady and his outstretched hand wasn’t shaking noticeably.

Draco’s eyebrows shot up as he considered Harry’s offer. He looked at the proffered glass, then back up at Harry. “Um. Yeah, I could use one actually. Thanks,” he said quietly as he took the glass and threw it back. Once he finished, he placed the empty glass onto the table and turned in his booth so that he was facing the brunette. “So. Any idea who it is I’m waiting for?”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He shrugged and scanned the crowd, appearing to be looking for contenders. In reality, he just couldn’t look at the blonde without giving it away. After a moment, he thought he was composed enough to answer. “Dunno. How about you? Any ideas?”

Draco shrugged and let out a deep sigh. “I thought I had a few potential candidates, but now… I’m not so sure.”

Harry didn’t want to know who Draco thought it was. He just nodded noncommittally. “So, how long are you planning on waiting?” He had to know how long he had to think.

“Honestly, I shouldn’t have waited this long,” Draco answered. He took out his wand and cast _Tempus_. It was 2:35. “I just can’t bring myself to leave yet. This…” He trailed off and looked at Harry before whispering, “This is brutal. What if he doesn’t come?”

Harry’s entire body was on edge. He could see just how nervous Draco was, but it paled in comparison to his own nerves. “I… I dunno.”

“I’ll be a laughing stock, that’s what,” Draco sighed as he turned back around. “Thanks again for the drink,” he said over his shoulder before looking down to his lap.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, but happily made his escape. He made a beeline for his friends, stopping in front of Ron.

“Harry,” Hermione started. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“Shhh!” Harry glanced around, his eyes wide. “Of course I didn’t. Keep your voice down.” He was dangerously close to losing his lunch. He could barely breathe properly; it was like there was no oxygen in the air.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms as she studied him. “Well, when are you going to? The longer you drag this out, the harder it’s going to be. You should’ve just done it when you were over there.”

“Yeah, just get it over with, mate,” Ron interjected.

Harry shook out his shaking hands and then crammed them in his pockets. There was a lot of trash on the floor. Honestly, how often did they clean? He could see a pile of dirty napkins crumpled up in a pile, there were French fries scattered on the floor along the wall, and there was definitely something wet over by the-

“Harry?” Dean forced Harry back to the present. “You _are_ going to tell him, aren’t you?”

Harry glanced up at his group of friends, all of which were looking at him expectantly. It was too much. _No._ He most certainly was _not_ going to tell him. How could they think- how could they _expect_ him to be able to- he needed air.

He took a step towards the door past Ron, but the red-head grabbed his wrist and stopped him. Harry inhaled sharply, right on the cusp of a panic attack. Ron leaned in and quietly told him to copy his breathing. Harry watched his best friend’s chest rise and fall slowly and did his best to imitate it. After a moment he pulled his hand away, but only so he could grab Ron’s hand with a crushing grip. The red-head winced slightly, but allowed it as he kept breathing. A minute or so later Harry no longer felt like he was hyperventilating, but he still couldn’t stop shaking.

“Can-can I have my hand back?” Ron wheezed.

Harry released his death-grip, but stared down at the floor. He was worrying his bottom lip and trying to ignore the fact that his heart was probably going to burst out of his chest any moment.

“Relax, I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” said Neville uneasily.

“Just- just take a deep breath and walk over there. It’s not like you’ll even really have to _say_ anything. I mean, you’ll be admitting it just by approaching him,” Hermione reasoned.

Harry glared at her. He knew she was trying to help, they all were, he just _couldn’t_ -

Something caught his eye. He looked over to the source of his anxiety to find Draco shifting in his booth. The blonde cast another _Tempus_ ; it was almost 3:00. The Slytherin’s mask slipped to show a glimpse of the betrayal and devastation he undoubtedly felt just before he covered his face with both hands. He was the epitome of misery.

Harry watched this display in horror. He had never seen Draco willingly express his emotions so publicly like that. He… he _couldn’t_ … but Draco was obviously about to completely lose his composure. Harry felt sick. He felt like- like his body was filling with ice water, causing him to shake uncontrollably and his lungs to heave with the effort to breathe.

“Harry,” Hermione said gently in his ear. “Go.”

The brunette half gasped, half whimpered as Ron gave him a light push in the direction of Draco’s booth.

He forced one foot in front of the other and kept his head down, hating how hot his face already felt. He couldn’t breathe, he was going to- going to break down any second now. He kept his eyes firmly down- he had no desire to see anyone’s reaction.

 He stopped right next to the blonde’s booth, still staring at the floor. He knew Draco had seen him from the shocked gasp that the Slytherin emitted. Harry tensed even more.

“Can-” he broke off to clear his throat. “Can I sit?” He held his breath, and his tears back, as he waited for his worst fear to come true.

Draco’s response was calm and collected. “Potter... You know who I’m waiting for.”

Harry squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before opening them, blinking several times to rid them of their moisture. “I know,” he all but whispered.

The five seconds it took for Draco to react felt like a century, but he finally slid into the inside of the booth, thus making room for Harry to sit next to him. The brunette bit his lip hard as he carefully sat, making sure to leave a space between them. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared as his knuckles turned white. He tried to tune out the sounds of cameras snapping away in the otherwise silent pub.

“So. You’re Phoenix,” Draco said conversationally.

Harry winced and ducked his head more. He was in serious danger of bloody crying. He couldn’t. Not now. He took a shaky breath in and then exhaled slowly. Squeezing his hands together even more tightly, he nodded.

“Prove it. For all I know you simply took pity on me and you’re doing this to help me save face.”

Harry groaned and covered his face for a moment. He forced his hands back down immediately after though- if he kept them up for too long, he knew he wouldn’t be able to show his face again. “Um,” he started. He looked back down to his lap.

He honestly couldn’t think- it was like his brain had frozen up and was taking ages to form any semblance of a thought. _He had to prove it. Right_. Did he even _want_ to prove it? Yes, yes, it was too late now. He had to.

“I, um…” he trailed off as he tried to think of something. _The letters. Think of something from the letters._ “You wrote that- that you were the one that posted that first g-gay confession on The Wall. And… and I wrote the response to it.” He cringed at the sounds of his own trembling voice.

“Ah,” Draco said. “So it _is_ you then. Why did you wait so long? Why didn’t you tell me when you brought me that drink?”

Harry swallowed hard. He didn’t really trust his voice anymore, but he couldn’t just refrain from answering. He attempted to clear his throat before whispering his answer. “I w-was feeling out the situation. I wasn’t sure if I could… go through with it.”

Draco hummed, but otherwise remained silent. Harry couldn’t take it anymore. “Are… are you disappointed it’s me? I- I mean, do you accept, or are you going to- to reject me?” he asked in a rush.

“Well, what is it that I’m either accepting or rejecting? You haven’t asked me anything,” Draco said, a smile evident in his voice.

The brunette groaned- _yes, it was a manly groan; certainly not a pathetic sounding whimper_ \- and was on the verge of jumping up from the booth and sprinting from the pub. He took a few shallow breaths, trying desperately to ease the constriction in his throat and chest so that he would be able to respond.

This was it. The moment of truth. The one singular event that would completely shatter him. This was comparable to the feeling he had walking into the Forbidden Forest to meet his death. But, just like then, he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t go this far without finishing it.

_Fuck it, was he a bloody Gryffindor, or not?_

“Do you accept _me_? Will you… go out with… me?” he breathed. He had never felt as vulnerable or afraid of what someone else thought of him as he did in that moment.

Draco grinned from ear to ear, not that Harry could see it. “Yes, you imbecile,” the blonde answered as he grabbed Harry’s chin and forced him to face him.

Harry’s eyes widened and watered simultaneously as a fresh wave of raw emotion crashed through him. The blonde closed the gap and pressed his lips to the shocked Gryffindor’s, who was frozen to the spot.

After a moment, Harry pulled away, a mixture of pure relief, happiness and resentment all battling for the forefront of Harry’s scrambled head. He breathed in sharply and locked eyes with the blonde, searching for any signs of insincerity. “You’re an arsehole,” he said through wet lashes.

Draco smiled.”Yes.”

“And- and I hate you,” Harry said as he frantically wiped away any wetness that may have escaped.

“No you don’t. In fact, I happen to know just how fond of me you are,” the blonde smirked.

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, yes. You’d like that. You never did answer my question from my last letter- what do you want, _Phoenix_?” he purred the last word.

Harry lightly punched the blonde’s shoulder, who chuckled before leaning in to capture his lips once more. This time, Harry didn’t pull away. All of the tension and fear melted away as it slowly sunk in- Draco hadn’t rejected him. He had said _yes_. He deepened the kiss, unwilling to pull away too soon despite the frantic snapping of cameras all around them.

The two boys were lost in each other, putting everything they felt into that passionate kiss. It was pure bliss.

And then he heard it. The cheering and applause.

 _Oh god_.

Harry pulled away shyly and covered his face as Draco wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He peaked up at the blonde to find that he was blushing furiously with a grin plastered across his face. Harry’s heart was soaring, but he also couldn’t stand the feeling of having every eye on him. He took Draco’s hand and slid out of the booth, pulling him along with him. Once they were both standing, he laced their fingers together and led his Slytherin out of the pub, keeping his head down the entire way.

*             *             *             *             *

They reached the street and Harry led him down the road towards Hogwarts. He needed to be alone- well, he needed time with just Draco- and he was also afraid that if they stayed he’d have to give a statement to the reporters. He definitely wasn’t ready for that.

Draco tried to pull him in for another kiss. Harry shoved him away with his free hand while still holding Draco’s hand with the other.

“You’re still an arse.”

The blonde sighed dramatically. “I know. But if not for my antics then we wouldn’t be together right now,” he smirked.

No matter how hard he tried, Harry could not repress the smile that was forcing its way onto his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be writing an epilogue, but let me know if there's something specific you want me to expand on, or include a certain detail/event, or anything like that. As of right now, I just have a very general idea of a brief epilogue. I hope you all enjoyed Harry's inner struggle- he finally made a good decision!


	12. The Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the epilogue. I couldn't make it work as an epilogue, and the story just didn't feel complete without some of this, so I give you an extra chapter!

Draco and Potter made the long walk back to Hogwarts in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts. Draco was no idiot- he knew Potter was having a mini breakdown, no matter how hard he was trying to hide it. The hand holding his in a bone-crushing grip was clammy and trembling, and the Gryffindor was attempting to hide a few stray tears with the overgrown hair that was falling into his eyes.

Draco let him be. He knew what he was going through, having been there himself not long ago. Coming out, especially when you didn’t choose to, is incredibly difficult. The poor sod has probably been worked up about this since his post on The Wall. Draco was all too familiar with the emotional crash that resulted from finally coming down from too much adrenaline. The stubborn git should have just revealed his identity in a letter. The blonde internally rolled his eyes.

They kept walking along the winding path, and Draco allowed himself to recede into his own thoughts. He couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at his lips. He sneaked a sideways glance at his… _boyfriend_ , and his heart thrummed happily.

He gave his head a subtle shake as he remembered how he felt throughout this entire correspondence. He had seriously placed Potter in the number one spot of possible contenders almost from the beginning… With that possibility in mind, he had certainly developed a- _no_ , not a crush- but an _interest_ in Potter. But that kiss with the girl Weasley had thrown him off. He had been so sure. It had even seemed like Potter had been flirting with him at the party…

 _Well_. He likely _was_ flirting. Draco shouldn’t have given up on that possibility so soon. Hindsight is 20/20.

After he’d walked in on that unfortunate kiss, he had returned to the dance floor and took note of every other bloke who spoke to him.

For a while he had thought that maybe it was Corner- Matthew? Michael? But then he heard that Corner had started seeing one of the Patil twins, so that was unlikely. After that, he suspected Terry Boot… who was still single, but had never given any indication that he was interested in blokes. That was no surprise, though. Then, of course, it could have been a bloke from the year below him, but Draco didn’t know many of them by name. That would have been impossible to figure out.

Looking down the path, Draco could just make out Hogwarts in the distance. They’d reach the gates in a few short minutes. He stole another glance at Potter- and immediately had to look away. The brunette was walking along, holding Draco’s hand with one of his own, while his other was occupied with covering his mouth to undoubtedly silence his sobs. His head was bowed low so as much hair as possible would shield him from view as a torrent of tears streamed down his reddened cheeks.

Draco’s chest constricted at the sight.  He thought back to “the meeting” in the Three Broomsticks, and how utterly mortified Potter looked the moment he approached his booth.

The blonde sighed. He had been horribly anxious, himself. He had arrived promptly at 2:00 and had chosen a booth in the back corner- not that it did any good. He had never seen so many people stuffed into the little pub before. It was quite intimidating.

He had waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He had been beginning to think that Phoenix wasn’t going to come… which would have meant that Draco would be publicly rejected and humiliated and made to be the laughing stock. Oh, how the press would eat him alive.

But then Potter tapped him on the shoulder. That was when Draco realized that he had been secretly hoping it was Potter all along. He had never been happier- until Potter crushed him. He had only been there to offer him a drink.

Draco exhaled deeply. Fucking Potter.

The prat had then left, even after Draco had confided in him that he was terrified that Phoenix wouldn’t show. The blonde had truly thought then that Phoenix wasn’t Potter, and that he certainly wasn’t coming. Even so, Draco had waited a bit longer. He had been desperate- he hadn’t cared in the slightest who Phoenix was, he just wanted _someone_ to come forward.

But no one did.

Miserable, defeated, embarrassed, and a whole myriad of other awful emotions, Draco had been about to make his leave.

That’s when Potter approached again, but that time, it was quite clear what his intention was. Draco had been elated- although he’d never outwardly express that, obviously- but he forced himself to be cautious. He would not allow himself to be made a fool. And so, he had demanded proof, quite ingeniously, if he did say so himself. The rest of the exchange, with the exception of the kiss of course, was a bit of a blur after Potter had convinced him. Although, he thought he remembered seeing his Healer, McGonagall, and some other teachers joining in with the cheering after that heated kiss. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or embarrassed by that…

Afterwards, he had happily let Potter lead him out of the pub and back down the road towards school.

He just hoped Potter’s little meltdown was nearing its end.

*             *             *             *             *

*             *             *             *             *

They were nearing the front gates, and Harry was trying desperately to reign in his emotions and get himself under control. This was already humiliating- he certainly didn’t want to exacerbate it.

By the time they pushed open the heavy oak doors and walked into the Entrance Hall, Harry had thankfully pulled himself together. He hesitated a moment before dropping Draco’s hand and turning on his heel towards Gryffindor tower. Before he made it more than two steps, the blonde had grabbed his hand again and stopped him.

“Slytherin is closer.”

Harry tensed up. “I can’t… I can’t go to Slytherin while I’m- while I’m like this,” he said quietly.

“Right. Well, there’s a disused classroom further into the dungeons. It’s closer and we’ll have privacy,” Draco suggested.

Without a word, Harry turned towards the dungeons and started walking, allowing Draco to lead him there. He refused to look at the blonde the entire way, but managed to refrain from pulling his hand away.

Draco led him through the door to the room, and Harry shut the door behind them. He hesitated, his back to Draco, as he attempted to numb himself.

Draco cleared his throat. “So, I-”

“Look,” Harry cut him off as he finally turned to face the blonde. “I- I appreciate what you did. I really do. And um… and I think I can handle maybe some hand holding, walking each other to and from class, that sort of thing for- let’s say a week. But nothing more than that. I can’t take any more than that, and if you try, I’ll punch you. After a week we can ‘break up.’” He closed his eyes against the moisture building up in them once more as he waited for Draco’s reply.

“What… what in the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Harry turned his back to him again, his face burning. He was going to have to say it. “I know you only said y-yes because it was so public. You pretended to be happy it was m-me, and said yes so that I could save face. So, we’ll keep pretending for a week or so, and then say we broke up due to all of our differences. You get to know that I’m-” his voice broke. He cleared it and tried again. “-that I’m Phoenix and… f-fancy you, and I get to save face. Win-win,” he finished weakly.

There was an excruciating minute of silence before Draco spoke. Finally, he inhaled deeply, and then asked, “Is that really what you think?”

Harry was about to answer in the affirmative when he was spun around, strong hands gripping his biceps and forcing him to face his worst nightmare. He froze.

“Potter… you _can’t_ be that thick… Please tell me your little breakdown on the walk back wasn’t because you were thinking up all this nonsense?”

Harry looked away and bit his trembling lip. So Draco had noticed. _Great_. Like he wasn’t already humiliated beyond belief.

“Listen very carefully, Potter. I did not say yes out of pity, or- or to help you save face. I wouldn’t give you false hope like that. As heartless as some people think I am, I’d never do _that_ to someone. Especially not to someone whom I’ve become quite fond of.”

Harry hesitated, barely able to believe what he was hearing. He had to ask, though… “You’ve become fond of… of Phoenix, you mean, or…?”

“Well, yes,” Draco drawled. “But of you, too, you dolt.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly lifted his gaze up to meet Draco’s. There was no trace of deceit of any kind- no smirk or sneer, no raised brow, no hard look in his eyes… Harry just- just couldn’t quite believe it.

Draco sighed in exasperation. His eyes were pleading with Harry to believe him. “Potter… Normally, I’d never do this. This is my one and only exception, so don’t take it for granted. I’m going to tell you exactly how I feel. No games, no riddles- I’m going to be clear and honest. Understand?”

Harry gave a quick nod of his head, his eyes wide.

“Good.” Draco’s cheeks flushed as he shifted his weight. His hands tightened their grip on Harry’s arms, even though he wasn’t struggling. “I was… quite pleased when I realized that you’re Phoenix. Before the party, I had been hoping it was you. I enjoyed the party immensely because of you, and I was thoroughly disappointed when I saw you with the girl Weasley. I thought it meant that it couldn’t be you. I found myself reading the letters in your voice anyway, and it wasn’t long before I realized that… that yes, I’d fallen for whoever Phoenix was. But… I’d also fallen for you. So, as you can see, I was delighted when I learned that you and Phoenix are one in the same.” He paused then, searching Harry’s eyes. For what, the brunette had no idea. “Potter… I fancy you too. In fact, I’d call it much more than just a passing fancy, it’s a- an erumpent sized crush, I’d say,” he said with a wink and a smirk.

Harry’s blush deepened and he looked away as the grin stretched across his face without his permission. Slowly, the ice that had frozen him from the inside was melting.

Draco released one of his biceps and gently turned his chin to face him again. Harry didn’t resist.

“So when you asked me to go out with you and I said yes… that was real. I very much want to go out with you.” His smile turned wicked as he looked Harry up and down. “But I will not be feeding into your insecurities after this moment, so I suggest you start acting like the confident, sexy lion who knows what he wants that you portrayed in your letters, or I might just sue you for false advertisement.”

Harry felt all of the stress and anxiety leave his body as he let out a chuckle. Then he surged forward and captured Draco’s lips with his own, reveling in their softness and warmth. They wrapped their arms around each other, pulling the other closer as they succumbed to the sensations. Their tongues danced and twirled around each other, tasting and exploring, as their hands began to wander innocently.

Draco was the first to require air as he gently pulled back, panting slightly. Harry was out of breath as well, and he took the opportunity to marvel at the way Draco’s cheeks flushed, and how his eyes sparkled when he looked at him, and how red and wet his lips looked after that incredible snog. Harry bit his own, swollen lip as he drank in the sight.

Draco’s eyes darkened then, and that was all the warning Harry got before he was pushed up against the wall, hands pinned above his head with the sexy blonde pressed flush against him. Harry gasped.

“Now,” the Slytherin purred. “I really do require an answer this time… What do you want?” he whispered in Harry’s ear.

The brunette shivered as heat pooled in his stomach. He let out a shaky breath before whispering back. “You.”

Draco gave him a heated look before once again devouring his mouth, his hips circling and rubbing and driving Harry wild.

It was a good thing that no one ventured this far into the dungeons; they had forgotten to use a silencing spell.


End file.
